A Match Made at the Ministry
by MuggleBeene
Summary: Post-Hogwarts AU. A Marriage Law fic for the TLX "Because it's February Writing Challenge." It's the age old question, can Slytherin and Gryffindor get along if the government says they have to, for magic's sake? A slightly crack-fic look at what happens when the Ministry decides it knows best. Government efficiency at it's best. Not part of the Professor Muggle series.
1. Chop Chop

**A Match Made at the Ministry**

 **Chapter 1: Chop Chop**

 _29 June, 2001_

As the Quidditch players sped past their seats Charlie Weasley began thinking about life. About how, after everything that had happened in the war, things seemed to finally be getting back to normal. Better than normal in some ways, though, as he was on holiday sitting with Ron, Fred, George and Percy in a Bulgarian Quidditch stadium watching a friendly between the Bulgarian national team and Puddlemere United. The tickets were through Fred an' George's old Gryffindor Quidditch captain Oliver Wood, who got his usual allotment of tickets even if he was doing nothing in the match except riding the bench. Apparently Wood had seen some match time when the first team keeper had been injured; instead of playing in the friendly like usual Oliver was sitting while the other keeper used the match to get back to league form. It still felt odd for Charlie to see Oliver as anything more than the little Gryffindor on his broom trying out for Keeper from back when he was playing, but time had definitely moved on.

"Over there, about two rows up from the ugly bloke with the mustache." Fred handed a pair of omnioculars across Ron to George. "Can't miss her, blue shirt."

George quickly fitted the omnioculars to his eyes and began scanning. "Damn it, do you know how many ugly blokes with mustaches are in this crowd?"

Charlie tapped Ron on the shoulder and both of them leaned back slightly so they could see each other. "They're doing what I think they're doing, right?"

Ron nodded, a scowl on his face. "Ever since I asked Hermione to marry me all they do is try to find the most fit women to show me what I'm missing, or the ugliest old ones to show me what's going to happen."

Charlie laughed softly. "That's your own damn fault, Ronnie, getting engaged. Bill, now you. What are the Weasleys coming to?"

"Uh...there might be one more." Ron swallowed and debated on whether to say something.

Charlie looked over at this brothers, did the calculations and it didn't take long to figure out. "Shit. George, move." He stood up, reached down and grabbed his brother's hair and then jerked him towards Fred's side. His little brother got the hint and after apologising to the spectators near them he looked over to Ron. "Does Mum know?"

Ron shook his head quickly. "Not yet. I shouldna said anything. He hasn't asked her yet but I know he's got the ring. Went with him to get it and that was when he asked me a buncha stuff. You would think that after going through all the crap he went though he wouldn't be like that but he was nervous as hell. They're going out tonight. I think he's gonna ask her."

"Is she going to say yes?"

Ron looked at Charlie for a moment as if trying to determine if he was taking the mickey. "Are you fuckin' thick or what? You know how they are. No wonder you're single, you're awful at this stuff. And I should know, because I was really awful for a while. Now are we gonna watch the match or talk about stuff like this?"

-ooo-

 _30 June, 2001_

It was dark when Daphne Greengrass unlocked the door to her flat. It had been raining, but nothing horrible, just the normal amount which seemed the precise quantity to make her hair start to frizz. But even if her hair approached something like Granger at a rainy Quidditch match before the poor Gryffindor girl found out about hair care products it wouldn't matter to Daphne; she had discovered something at work that would change everything. Initially she had planned on keeping it all in until she arrived home and then absolutely losing it when she told her flatmate, but for some odd reason she was calm.

"Shock." She hung up her cloak on the hook by the door, walked into the little sitting room and sat down in a chair partially covered with crisp packets and some Muggle magazines. "That's it, I'm in shock."

Tracey Davis sat on the floor across from Daphne, leaning back on the sofa, and watched her flatmate with a semi-scowl. She'd lived with Daphne during Hogwarts and pretty much afterwards except for a horrid month at home with her parents. She'd seen Daphne like this a few times before and it had never gone well. Leaning up on her elbows she tilted her head to the side slightly. "What'd you find out in the Wizangamot this time? Muggleborns are good eating with enough HP sauce?"

Daphne waved her off absentmindedly, "No, I don't think so. It's much worse than that."

"Really?" Tracey leaned forward. "This I have to hear."

"Oh." Daphne shook her head a little bit. "What did you ask?"

"Never mind. What'd the Wizangamot do this time? I wish Shacklebolt was still Minister."

"Oh, trust me, Trace, after you hear this you'll think that even more. Even my parents will want him back."

"Merlin." Tracey put her hands on the front of the sofa and eased herself up into a proper sitting position. "Your parents are...well...um..."

"Never mind about them. I was there in session, an open session or else I'd never be able to say a word about this. It was one of those completely boring sessions, taxes, tariffs, all that financial stuff. And then a Department of Mysteries man...or possibly woman, couldn't tell...they started in on some report that's given every twenty years. Apparently there's a chance of magic dying out, massive amounts of squibs being born, and then one thing will lead to another and the Floos will stop working and wards will fail and either the Muggles will find out and everything changes or the Goblins take over and Merlin-forbid that happen, because...Tracey? Tracey? Are you listening?"

"Hmmm?" Tracey looked up from her magazine. "Sorry, stopped caring after you started droning on about taxes."

Daphne looked around her chair frantically and, finding nothing, settled on crumpling up several crips packets and threw them at Tracey. "Dammit, listen! I didn't even get to the important bit but here it is...they voted on _and passed_ a Marriage Law!"

"Nuh-uh. That's mental. Good try."

"I'm not lying! You'll see it in the papers tomorrow." Daphne sank back into the chair. Her tone was distant and detatched. "Purebloods have to marry half-bloods or muggleborns. If you aren't currently engaged the Department of Mysteries will match you with someone. Six months to marry, first child a year from wedding date."

Without saying a word Tracey got up from the sofa, returning moments later with a very large, cheap jug of wine and two tea mugs. "Haven't done the cleaning." She poured the wine and handed Daphne her mug. As her best friend took the mug and kept quiet Tracey started thinking. It wasn't like Daphne to be this way. The story was crap, at best. Unworthy of a good Slytherin joke. She pursed her lips and gave her a disdainful glare. "This is all because your sister's been seeing Creevey. I knew with him working at that shop with the Weasleys this would happen. Are there cameras somewhere?" She took out her wand and began waving it about the flat.

Daphne took a big drink of wine from the mug. "I knew you could use your wand; too bad you don't know any cleaning spells. And it doesn't matter that Astoria's dating Dennis Creevey...well, it might. But I'm not lying. Tracey. Tracey, stop waving your wand and listen!"

That caught Tracey by surprise, because the tone of her voice was similar to back then, back when they were Slytherin outcasts during the war. "Daphne..." Her wand went slack at her side. "This marriage law thing is real, isn't it?"

"It is. I wish I wasn't lying. As least Stori will be happy. The government will officially approve of her dating Dennis, even if Mum and Dad don't."

Tracey sat down on the sofa and took a big drink from her mug. "So we'll get a letter from the Ministry assigning us a..."

"Yes." Daphne nodded. "We'll be told who we'll marry. I wish I could forget I ever heard any of that."

"You can, temporarily, and without a spell." Tracey held up the jug of wine. "Thank you, alcohol."

-ooo-

The reaction to the Daily Prophet for the first of July was astounding. The day's editorial was right there on the front page alongside the picture of Minister Hilda Osben holding up a graph with the arrow going down to the bottom of the chart and then off of the chart. The editorial, without a byline for protection's sake, didn't mince words; it was everyone's patriotic duty to repopulate the magical community in a responsible manner after all the losses. But the quote from the Minister didn't start things off on the right foot.

"Listen, we didn't suffer through the Voldemort Wars so you could dither about and not commit and do things the right way. We're in crisis here, people! The Department of Mysteries' report was very clear, we're in danger. Marry and procreate, and none of this 'pureblood only' thing. If you would have done things right the first time we wouldn't be in this state and I'm looking at you blood purity zealots. Get hopping. You've got six months after the notices go out. Oh, and as of today the contraceptive spell has the trace on it and we've restricted the sale of certain potion spell ingredients as well. We'll know if you're trying to fool us. Chop chop. And for those who have gone ahead and done things ahead of time, and properly, like Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Ginevra Weasley, not to mention Mr. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Grunger, well done! Right. No more questions, I'm a very busy witch."

After apologising to Miss Hermione Granger regarding the spelling of her surname and wishing her and her betrothed the best, the editor referenced the entirety of the marriage law, printed in full on the back page of the paper. Alongside the marriage law was the report from the Department of Mysteries. It didn't paint a pretty picture. Low birth rate, combined with a startling death rate amongst half-blood and muggleborn witches and wizards had sent the squib chances very high, and the population expectations through the floor.

Consensus was that something needed to be done, but everybody agreed that the marriage law was a step too far. Cries went up for the Wizangamot to reconvene to reconsider the law but unfortunately every member of the legislative body seemed to be off on holiday. For six months.

-ooo-

The scene inside Daphne and Tracey's flat was played out all over Britain; sitting nervously with a cup of tea, scanning the sky and wishing that the owl wouldn't come. But the owls came, all over Britain just as certain as they came to the window of their flat. Tracey and Daphne looked at each other, tapped their hands three times on the table and then made a gesture; Daphne's hand was flat while Tracey mimicked scissors.

"Damn it." Daphne moved the chair back and went to the window, let in the owl and took the two letters. Usually the owls waited for treats but this owl must have been under orders because the second the letters were detached it took off as fast as possible. "I don't want to look."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "Nobody does. At least you're not going to be stuck with some pureblood arsehole like me. I thought I was done with that after Hogwarts, but then it keeps on going. Now this. Joy. Here, give it." She held out her hand and took the envelope, hurriedly opening it and pulling out the parchment. "Ok, since you're dying I'll tell you the first page is just the law and rules and shit. The second page is the thing, so..." She turned over the page and stood there for a moment. "Well...huh. I forgot they're a pureblood family."

"Tracey! Who?" Daphne's eyebrows shot up into her fringe.

"Shaking her head Tracey pointed to Daphne's letter. "You look and we'll tell at the same time. This is so fucking stupid, anyway. I mean, we're getting a letter telling us who we'll marry and have children with. Like I want kids, they get jam all over everything..."

Daphne lifted the envelope with trembling hands. After a moment's hesitation she ripped open the flap of the envelope and tossed aside the first page. There, on the page was a name. It took her a few seconds to register and to connect the name with a person. A person she knew, sort of.

"Ok, on three..." Tracey tapped her on the shoulder. "One, two..."

"Oliver Wood."

"Goddamnit, Daphne." Tracey gave her a disgusted face. "Three, three...and Oliver Wood? Really? He's fit. Puddlemere might have a chance with him in goal."

Daphne glared at her best friend. "I know you work with Quidditch at the Ministry, but this is..." She stopped suddenly. "Who'd you get?"

"Well, it's a Weasley. Don't laugh." Tracey pursed her lips. "But not one I know."

"So it isn't one of the twins or Percy. Good job, there. But who is..."

"Charles Osbert Weasley. I have to marry a man whose middle name is Osbert. I don't know anything about him but how awful must he be with a name like Osbert? And I know he didn't give himself that name but he has the genetics of someone who would name a child Osbert. I'm marrying a Weasley. Daphne, you're crap at Obliviation, right?"

"Oh, thanks for bringing that back up."

"So you wanted to be an Obliviator and were pants at it, perfect. Obliviate me."

"But I could permanently...oh." Daphne sat down on the chair nearest. "Nice try."

Tracey threw the parchment in the air and walked into the kitchen, returning with an unopened jug of cheap wine. "I don't care what time it is, I have to marry a Weasley. I guess it could be worse, it could be _Malfoy_. Wonder what poor non-pureblood has to put up with that ponce?" She looked over at Daphne, still standing by the kitchen table. "Daph?"

"I don't like Quidditch. I don't know the first thing about Oliver Wood except he was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain."

Tracey poured the wine into two pint glasses and handed one to Daphne. "Well, he's got a pretty good Scottish accent."

"He's Scottish? Oh my God. Mummy and Daddy will have kneazles." Daphne pushed aside her blonde hair and drank a good deal of the wine. "So you've met him then?"

"Yeah, he's come into the office. Working at Games an' Sport you see all the Quidditch players at one time or another. Most of 'em are overpriviledged twats. Nice to look at, though." Tracey took a big drink of wine. "So it's half-eight in the morning, we're looking lovely, I think we've got another jug of that wine in the kitchen and we've both got to marry Gryffindors. I say we get Slytherin-drunk and say the the hell with the rest of the day."

"Fuck it." Daphne drained her glass and pushed it towards Tracey. "Why not?"

-ooo-

The owl was insistently tapping on the window with it's beak, enough so that when Oliver Wood went to open up and let it in he was worried that the owl was slightly deranged. After taking the bundle of letters he went to retrieve an owl treat but was surprised that the owl was gone before he could give it something. Dropping the treat in the bowl he closed the window and made his way into the kitchen to start the kettle.

It had been slightly mental, the last few days. The friendly match had ended well, they'd been invited by the Bulgarian team out for a drink, and combine that with the fact that the Weasleys were there, not to mention Viktor Krum, and it was all a blur. They'd started out drinking at a wizarding pub in Bulgaria that was more disco-dance-club-thingy than pub, then somehow they'd conned one of the Bulgarian National Team officials for a portkey to Romania, as Charlie Weasley had lost a bet and had to give everyone a tour of the Dragon Reserve. A few of the celebrants dropped off at that point, most notably Ron who said he had promised Hermione things wouldn't get too out of hand. Thankfully Charlie didn't take them to see the dragons while they were all legless, as they didn't want to actually become legless or worse, and then things devolved from there. Some of the other lads decided to visit a house of somewhat disreputable repute rumoured to be in Greece so Oliver, the Weasleys and a couple of his teammates used their connections and got a portkey back to Scotland, specifically the Wood family farm. Oliver's older brother had laughed at them all and stuck them up in the crofter's cottagethat Oliver used in the North part of the farm, had a quick pint or two while he listened to their exploits and then went back to his wife and kids, promising not to tell Mum and Dad what their 'wee little bairn' had done this time.

Sniffing and rubbing a hand through his hair, trying to come back to reality, Oliver flipped through the envelopes. One for him, one for Fred, George...Percy? When did Percy get there? And Lee Jordan? "Hey lads, wake up! Mail...from the Ministry." He shuffled into the small sitting room where several people were still sleeping. "Charlie, letter for you."

Charlie didn't pull the blanket down from his face, instead he put a hand out from under the cover and took the letter and went back to sleep.

"Tom, John, Rafael...letters for you." He tossed the letters on his sleeping teammates and walked over to where the twins had fallen asleep. Fred was on top of the table and George was underneath it. "Ministry letters, here." He sat the letter on top of Fred's face and stuck George's letter in his open mouth. Neither twin moved. He started to go look for Jordan and Percy but at that point he realised that he was going to need a hangover potion or possibly a hangover portion bath mixed with intravenous hangover potion. "Bloody fucking 'ell." He put his back against the wall, slid down and then leaned over, resting his head on the cool, cool stone of the floor. He didn't even move when the door opened.

"Oliver! Olvier, where...oh. Ha-ha!" An older man in outdoor-type clothing walked over and knelt down next to his son. "I ken you boys had a good time, aye? Well, what'd yer letter say, son? Who'd ye get?"

Oliver opened one eye. "What are you on about, Da? And not so loud."

"Dinnae tell me you don't know about the law...when'd you start this little drinking session?"

"What day is it?"

Oliver's father laughed long and, unfortunately for the sleeping occupants of the croft, much too loudly. "You started after the match, eh? This'll sober you lot up quick, I wager. Got a letter, right?"

"Yeah, something from the Ministry. Here." He pushed the letter towards his father, still resting his face on the cool stone of the floor."

"Nah, sorry lad, cannae help ye there. Only you can open it."

"Fine." Oliver rolled over on his back, opened the envelope and saw the first page looked like legalese so he tossed it aside. His agent did all the legal stuff, so instead he saw a name on the second page. "Who is Daphne Greengrass and why is she writing me? Is she suing me?"

"She's not suing you, boy, that's gonna be yer wife."

Oliver closed his eyes and let his arm fall onto his stomach. "Did you and Mum sign me up for that matchmaking thing? I told you it doesn't work and I'm..."

"Ministry letter, son." The elder Wood tapped his son on the shoulder. "Come on, Ollie, wake up. Try and get outta that fog. Marriage law from the Ministry. Greengrass, eh? Can't say that I'd a picked them for you, I'm sure meeting the lass' parents is gonna be fun."

Somewhere in the recesses of Oliver's brain synapses began firing, overcoming the dehydration from excessive alcohol intake, and eventually formed a definite, coherent thought: the Ministry had done something and he was supposed to marry someone named Daphne Greengrass. "What the bloody hell, is this a joke?" He sat up slowly. "Dad?"

"Here." He gave his son the first page of the letter he'd ignored. "Try an' read this. You lot look pitiful. I'll put on the kettle but you'd better hurry up and pull yourselves together. I know your Mum is down in Braemar seeing to your Auntie; she'll be back in a few hours if the traffic holds."

Oliver sat there with the parchment in his hands. He knew that he should read the first part like his father told him but instead he kept looking at the second page. Daphne Greengrass. He vaguely remembered the name. The only thing he was sure of was that she didn't play Quidditch as he could name the members of every Hogwarts house team from his first year to his last.

Eventually all of the inhabitants of the cottage became slightly human. Oliver's Puddlemere teammates left immediately to contact their managers, solicitors and family, some in that order, leaving Oliver with the Weasleys and Lee Jordan. They sat around the table with tea and started eventually disclosed their matches.

"Daphne Greengrass, eh?" Fred shrugged. "Slytherin, blonde, not a Death Eater or one of their supporters, that's all I know. We really need Ginny here."

"We bloody well do not." Charlie pushed his hair back from his face and leaned forward. "She'd never let any of us live this down, hungover as we are. And she'd threaten us with Mum."

"Enough about Mum." George shook his head. "I don't know how but I'm sure Mum came up with this law."

As the other Weasleys agreed Oliver looked over to Lee Jordan. "Who'd you get?"

"Fred." Lee thumbed to his right. "I got him."

George started to laugh and then saw his twin's face. "Fred?"

"It's gotta be a clerical mistake." Fred held out the parchment which read, plainly, 'Lee Jordan'. "No middle name. Forgot about that."

Lee shrugged. "Mum said it didn't matter. We'll clear it up, I get it all the time. Woman in the Ministry's named Leigh Jordan but she spells it L-e-i-g-h. Typical Ministry efficiency." He looked at Fred. "We'd make some ugly babies."

"Susan Bones." George smirked happily. "She's looking rather fit since leaving Hogwarts. Saw her in Gringotts the other day."

Percy took off his glasses roughly and tossed them on the table. "You lot act as if this is a date to a Ministry function! This is marriage! Children! You should take things much more seriously! You two..." He waved his hand towards the twins. "And you, Lee, this isn't something trivial, this is...this is marriage!"

Charlie took a sip of tea. "Ok, Perce, we get it. Who..."

"I don't know." Percy answered snippily. "I've been reading the law looking for loopholes."

Fred looked at his twin. "So Percy is all pertubed and he doesn't even know..."

George grinned. "What paragon of feminine pulchritude is paired..."

"Oh stuff it you two." Percy flipped over the piece of parchment and stopped. He started to say something, then stopped. "This is...unexpected."

Charlie grabbed the letter before the twins. "Well, at least we know the family. It's Luna Lovegood. Shut up you two."

Fred looked offended. "We didn't say anything."

"Pre-emptive." Charlie gave his brothers the look that the twins knew well, the 'stop it now or else' look. "And before you morons ask mine's Tracey Davis. Don't know anything about her."

"I think she was in Ravenclaw." Lee took a sip of tea. "But I could be wrong."

"Slytherin." Percy put on his glasses. "I had to give her a detention once for being out past curfew. Dark hair, and back then she had quite the attitude."

"Perfect for Charlie, then?" Fred winked at his brother.

Charlie looked at Fred for a moment and turned to Percy. "So, see any way possible to break the assignments?"

"Not at the moment."

"Um-hum." Charlie took another sip of tea. "Welcome to the family, Lee."

-ooo-

To say that the Ministry had been besieged with comment would be an understatement. Protests began in earnest, from multiple interest groups. The Squib Support Alliance even wrote in protest of the law but it all went for naught; the Ministry wheels were in motion and when that much red tape began piling up even the most adroit politician knew that ceasing the program would be next to impossible. It seemed as if all the loopholes had been closed, as well.

It was possible to leave Britain but the International Confederation of Wizards was bound, by statute, to enforce the law for all British citizens; moving to America or Australia wouldn't remove the requirement. A witch or wizard could marry a foreign partner, blood status check pending, and the displaced 'partner' would be entered back into the Ministry's pool of names. Witches and wizards who preferred the same sex were also accomodated, with the stipulation that child rearing was still required, whether by pregnancy or adoption. Marrying a non-human such as a Veela or a werewolf was permitted, once the forms had been submitted, sent to the initial committee, verified by the second committee, reviewed...so in essence, it was possible just not practical. Weddings would be performed at a massive rate, and to avoid the sheer tackiness of a mass wedding everyone would be sent their wedding date to 'assist in making this an orderly process and provide a proper lifetime memory.'

Needless to say responses were mixed. Thankfully for Miss Andrea Woolstock, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who had just finished Hogwarts, one Mr. Draco Malfoy provided papers to show that he and Miss Medusa Maria Dominico Salamanca, of the ancient Spanish Salamanca wizarding family, were betrothed prior to the marriage law. The Aurors later declined to press charges, claiming it was accidental magic, as Miss Woolstock had been found celebrating at her Muggle grandparents' house in Lower Elkstone.

As the Ministry official left in charge of the project since the Wizangamot buggered off was almost pulling out his hair in desperation he came up with an idea to hopefully make things easier; a series of Ministry-sponsored dances so that couples would have a chance to meet their match in a more 'romantic environment.' They would happen at different intervals, but it was recommended that couples meet prior to the event. And then it became required that couples would meet before the event. And then, after more pressure from the press, the Ministry official in charge of the project also left with his wife, three dogs and budgerigar for an undisclosed location by leaving a letter on a minor official's desk with the words 'I quit, good luck. You'll need it.'

-ooo-

Hermione sat at the table in the Burrow, looking over parchment, and glanced at the Weasley clock. It was late, that was for sure, and everyone's hand in the family was on 'Working' except for Ginny's which said 'Home.' Hermione knew for a fact that Ginny was at Grimmauld Place with Harry, but also knew better than to point this out to her future mother-in-law. Molly was in the kitchen, humming happily to herself, and Hermione turned back to her study of the marriage law.

"Hey love." Ron kissed the top of her head and slid into the chair next to her, a cup of tea and a tin of biscuits in his hands. He put the tea in front of Hermione and opened up the tin, helping himself. "Find anything?"

"Not yet. So far it appears that nothing's going to get Fred and Lee out of it."

"Like Mum said, I'm sure you'll find something."

"Ron, I know I told you that proposal was horrible, but..."

"It _was_ horrible, Hermione." Ron shrugged. "But it worked, that's all I care about." He snuck a look into the kitchen. "Think Mum's ready for tomorrow night? Everybody and their matches? I think she might explode."

"I think she's ready, but she's worried about them. She's not letting on, though."

A click and a whirr from the family clock took their attention; Arthur's hand went from Work to Traveling and then with the POP of apparition outside the house the hand settled at Home.

Arthur entered the house and took off his hat. "Evening, Weasleys...and future Weasleys." He smiled at Hermione and then his face fell as he saw what she was working on. "If you can sort that, Hermione, I believe you'll receive another Order of Merlin. It's all anyone at the Ministry is talking about these days. Even my office." He went into the kitchen and stood behind Molly, his head on her shoulder and he sniffed loudly. "Smells wonderful."

Hermione turned to Ron. "You know I can't cook like your mum."

Ron shrugged. "Nobody cooks like Mum. We'll both learn. Or eat a lot of takeaway." He scratched his head for a moment. "So can we go to these dance thingies?" He stopped suddenly. "It isn't dress robes, is it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, it isn't dress robes. Why?"

"Kinda like to, you know, make up for, uh..."

"You're sweet." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You really just want to see your brothers and..."

"I wanna see Charlie an' Tracey Davis. You remember her. Piece of work. Told me off all the time, said that I was a git."

"You _were_ kind of a git."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I? Oh well." Ron leaned next to her. "But can we go?"

"Sure, we can go. It's open to the public." Hermione stopped. "Oh my God, Ron, think of it. It's going to be..."

"Brilliant. It's going to be brilliant." He smiled widely. "After all those years being the youngest brother and..."

"Payback, I get it." She put an arm through his. "And it serves Fred and George right, sending you those types of pictures in the mail and telling you what you were missing. They'll be expecting revenge, won't they?"

"Hermione, I'm shocked, for you think I'd stoop to something like that. Of course I would."

"Then let's wait. They'll be looking for it. Imagine when it doesn't happen right away..."

He kissed her quickly on the lips. "I'm just glad you're on my side. But yeah, the twins deserve it. Percy's Percy, he's better, but I still remember stuff. But leave Charlie out of it."

"Why, did he stand up for you when you were younger?"

"Yeah, but he's worse than the twins. They're awful when they want to be but when Charlie gets even he really gets even."

-ooo-

Oliver sat with his parents watching telly, and even though it was a somewhat normal night he knew it wasn't going to last long. He was right.

"Ollie?" His mum looked over from her chair. "When are you going to bring this girl out to meet us? I could do a roast on Sunday."

"I don't know, Mum." Oliver looked over to his father for help but didn't get any. "I haven't even met her yet."

"Oliver!" Annie Wood turned in her chair and gave her son a pointed look. "You haven't even talked to the poor girl? She doesn't know...Eddie, help me."

Oliver watched his father click the remote and turn to him. "Not verra nice, lad. You should owl or ring the girl."

Oliver laughed. "She's a pureblood, Da, pretty sure she doesn't have a phone."

"Right, right." Eddie pulled at his beard. "Listen to your mum. Sunday dinner." He looked over to his wife. "I'll tell Ben and Fiona tomorrow."

"Great." Oliver sank down in his chair. "I'm sure she'll love meeting everyone. This'll be great."

 _ **A/N: This was written for the TLX 'Because It's For February Writing Challenge. The elements to have were 1. Crackfic, 2. Valentine's Day and 3. Marriage Law. Since I've completely blown the Valentine's Day thing, mostly because I forgot it was a part of this story, I've gone for the crack/marriage law bit. Everybody has a marriage law story so why not?**_

 _ **For those who are loudly whispering about by WIP stories, got it. Yep, you're right. I'll get there.**_

 _ **Unlike almost anything else I've written I've gone the whole Netflix binge method, so you have a finished story in 5 chapters, all posted at once. I figured the world could use some Marriage Law fics that didn't feature Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron or god forbid Malfoy. There's enough of that out and about already.**_

 _ **Oh, and my copy of LibreOffice has decided that spellcheck is a crutch for the weak so it stopped working. Brace yourselves. So there you have it. Enjoy. As always thanks for reading and review if you wish.**_


	2. Betrothed

**A Match Made at the Ministry**

 **Chapter 2: Betrothed**

Charlie Weasley sat out in the garden at the Burrow, drinking a Muggle beer. His desire was to drain it and grab another one out of the charmed cooler at the end of the table but thought better of it. Didn't want his betrothed to think he was a drunk. Betrothed. That's what the press were calling the matches and it had kind of stuck. He still didn't know much about Tracey Davis and his sister hadn't helped. She claimed that Tracey, along with Daphne Greengrass, were amongst a group of Slytherins that didn't go along with Draco Malfoy and those idiots, but beyond that she didn't know much.

"Ready for this?" Harry Potter fished a beer out of the cooler and sat across from Charlie. He'd met Charlie a few times before that, and while Ginny and Bill had a special bond as siblings he knew that Charlie was only eclipsed by Bill in his fiancee's feelings. "I'm still trying to figure out how Fred an' Lee are getting out of this."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, me too. And I doubt I'm ready. You and Ginny are lucky you didn't have to go through this."

Harry nodded and took a sip of beer. "Win some, lose some. I'll take a win."

Charlie eyed Harry for a moment and simply nodded. What the kid had gone through was unlike anybody he'd ever known, too much for anyone, really, so it didn't do to bring up what he'd fought to get past. Ginny'd told him stories, enough to know that whatever he was going to go through didn't come close to what Harry and his sister had gone through. "Watch the beer. Mum'll have my head."

"But I'm drinking it, so why..."

"She knows I brought it and you know Mum."

"Right."

The pop of apparition took their attention. Right by ward line a red-headed woman stood in a summery, floral dress.

"Hey, Susan!" Harry waved at her and turned to Charlie. "Go get George."

Charlie took a glance at Susan, who looked a bit nervous, and headed into the Burrow to find George. He did find him, sitting with their parents and from the look on George's face Charlie could tell that Molly had been giving him some instructions. Possibly for a long time. "Hey George, Susan's here."

With that comment Molly stood up, straightened her apron and shooed George out the door. After he left she looked at Charlie. "How many?"

He stifled a laugh. "Just one, Mum. Harry's having one, too."

She shook her head. "Never you mind Harry, he's fine. He's not meeting his betrothed for the first time. You did remember to contact Tracey, didn't you?"

"Yes, Mum, I did. She said she'd be here." Charlie looked over to his father for help but Arthur just gave him a shrug. Thankfully he was saved by his sister. "Hey, squirt."

Ginny punched him in the shoulder. "You're not that much taller than me." She looked up as the door opened. "Hi, Susan."

As Harry and Susan walked in Charlie watched as Molly and Arthur welcomed her into the Burrow. George was following and it was only for a quick moment but Charlie caught his brother staring at Susan's bum. He went over, introduced himself to the woman and then went out to the garden to get the beer. He knew he'd need another one, probably soon.

From the moment he saw the next arrivals Charlie knew he wasn't going to be the only one to need a beer. Lee and Fred had arrived but the blonde in the middle was someone he didn't know. There had to be a reason they'd brought the woman with them. As they made their way towards him Charlie pulled out three beers. "Hello there, I'm Charlie. If you're with those two you need a beer."

The woman shook her head. "Verity, and no thanks. Not anymore." She looked up to Fred. "Well?"

"Uh, Charlie?" Fred squinted and semi-winced. "This is Verity. She works at the shop and, well...she's pregnant."

Lee reached forward and grabbed one of the beers in Charlie's hand. "Yeah, I guess I'm onto the second-chance list. I'm gutted. Me an' Fred coulda been so happy..."

Charlie stared at Lee for a moment and then turned to Verity. "Congratulations. I'm Charlie, second oldest. Welcome to the family. Head on in, I'm sure Mum will set you up with something non-alcoholic." He watched as Fred took Verity's hand and they made their way towards the Burrow, Lee trailing slightly, and off from another direction heard his name. Walking over the hill was Percy, a blonde head bobbing alongside. He hadn't seen Luna in ages, not since...the battle at Hogwarts and a few funerals thereafter. She looked good, her hair pulled back, and he laughed softly to himself at the sight of her next to Percy. She smiled as they made their way towards him, but what got Charlie was the slightly perplexed look on Percy's face.

"Hello, Luna. How are you? Hey Perce."

Luna gave Charlie a hug. "Hello, Charles, I'm very well. Ooh, is that beer? May I have one?"

"Sure." He handed her one and watched as she popped the top, looked at Percy for a moment and then put the beer in his hands. Percy almost dropped the beer as it surprised him but, recovering somewhat, thanked Luna and took a sip. Charlie handed her another one. "How're you two doing?"

"Oh, very well, thank you." Luna nodded. "We've been talking and I think things will be odd for a while but they'll go better eventually. Daddy says he's just what I need but I think I'm just what he needs."

"Hmmm...I think you could be right." Charlie leaned over and stage-whispered into Luna's ear. "Maybe you could help remove the stick he's got up his arse."

Luna giggled slightly and then took Percy's arm. "I think you might have a case of the whimplicks. They affect people..." She stopped and looked at Percy. "Perhaps we should go inside. Daddy and Percy were talking about Fred and Lee Jordan and think they might have a way out of that."

"I think..." Charlie paused. "I think you find that's sorted. Head on in."

For the next fifteen minutes Charlie sat out there, watching the sun begin to go down, and wondered if his nerves were going to eat him alive. He heard his name and turned to see his oldest brother walking his way. "Hey."

"No sign of her yet? It's fun in there, I don't think Mum knows what to do with herself. I think she wants to yell at Fred but she's too happy. Bad luck for the Jordan kid."

"The hell with Jordan, I'm dying out here." Charlie reached in and grabbed another beer. "I don't care what Mum says, I need this one."

Bill ignored that comment and grabbed his own beer. "I'm just glad I married Fleur before all this nonsense. If you'd just married Tonks like you planned after Hogwarts you wouldn't have this problem."

"Sod off. You know it wasn't gonna work. We knew it wasn't gonna work, me in Romania her with the Aurors. Still can't believe she married Remus Lupin."

"I still think you would've found a way if you wanted it bad enough." Bill took a drink. "So what do you know about this girl?"

"Not much."

"Well..." Bill clapped him on the shoulder. "Look at it this way, you'll have stuff to talk about." As the pop of apparition sounded Bill hit him again on the shoulder. "Starting now."

Charlie looked as the woman stood there, in Muggle jeans and a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up slightly. Her dark hair fell about to her shoulders and her eyes were large and brown. He slid off the chair and went over to her, extending his hand. "Hello, I'm Charlie. Charlie Weasley."

"You forgot Osbert." Tracey shook his hand and heard the man behind them snicker. "So you guessed that I'm Tracey."

"Tracey Gertrude." Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Since we're doing middle names and all." After they let their hands fall he motioned towards the house. "Want to head into the house?"

"Is that beer?" Tracey looked towards the cooler.

"I'll just leave you two." Bill headed down the path to the Burrow. He was very, very, very glad that he met Fleur before the marriage law was passed. "But don't stay out long, Mum's holding supper."

-ooo-

It was very late when Daphne arrived back at the flat. Technically it was very early, but she wasn't worried about the time as since the Wizangamot wasn't in session she didn't have to go to work. She was a bit frazzled, though, as it had been a night unlike anything she'd expected. Besides that there was something very off about the flat but she couldn't place it. Ignoring the thought she went to the loo, washed her face and was about to head into her room when she gave out a shriek of surprise as Tracey stood there in her pyjamas holding a carton of ice cream.

"Merlin's pants, Tracey! A bit of warning!"

"Um, ok." Tracey walked around the corner and said, loudly, "Daphne, you're home, I have ice cream." She walked back around the corner and handed Daphne a bowl. "Better?"

"Smart arse." Daphne headed into the sitting room and flopped on a chair, kicking off her low heels. "How was your night? What's he like?"

"Nuh uh." Tracey shook her head. "It's half-three in the morning. Nobody stays out until this time without anything good happening. Details."

"Fine." She reached up and undid the clip that held her hair back from over her left ear. "He lives on a farm, way up in Northern Scotland. One brother who's married and a niece. His father, Eddie, is a wizard and his Mum, Annie, is a Muggle."

"Uh huh." Tracey took a spoonful of ice cream. "That's wonderful. Very nice. So what did you talk about for this long? Sheep? Quidditch? What to name your third son?"

"What? Ah, um, _no_." She gave her a look, as it was obvious Tracey was in one of _those_ moods. "First, you were right, I was too dressed up."

"Told you so. Cream skirt and top, bet that went over well on the farm."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I am a witch, remember. Just because you lack the basic skills in household magic doesn't mean everyone is that way. It was a wee bit uncomfortable..."

"Wait. Stop. A _wee_ bit?" Tracey snort-laughed. "I can't wait for him to meet Lucina and Harold."

"Don't remind me. Mum's been on me to tell her who..."

"You haven't even told them who you're matched with?" Tracey dropped the spoon in her bowl. "Bloody fucking hell! What about your sister?"

"Oh." Daphne smooshed the ice cream in the bowl with her spoon. "She and Dennis ran off to Gretna Green. Mum's been a bit preoccupied..."

"Stop. Stop." Tracey held up her hands. "Your perfect little sister ran off and married a Muggleborn? Oh Merlin, I'd pay good gold to have seen the look on Lucina's face."

"So you can see why she hasn't pushed me too much." Daphne got up from the chair. "Do we have any chocolate?"

Tracey shook her head. "I took the money you gave me for chocolate and spent it on heroin. It was fun but I'm starting to need a fix and I think my skin's on fire. Fuck chocolate, why are you just now getting home? What's he like?"

"Give me a minute." Daphne headed off to her bedroom and came out a bit later in her pyjamas. "There. Much better."

"Delaying won't do you any good. Why were so late?" Tracey paused. "You didn't shag him, did you?"

"Are you mental? I did NOT shag him."

Tracey waggled a spoon at her friend. "But you thought about it, didn't you? Admit it, you did. I know I did. Marriage and babies and babies means shagging."

"Yes, but not tonight. Why, are you pregnant now? You got the ice cream?"

"I don't think so." Tracey shook her head and then put her hand over her stomach and then gave a very fake look of surprise. "Oh my God, you're right, I'm pregnant! I knew shaking his hand was a bad idea!"

"Not funny." Daphne slunk further into her chair and brought her legs up to sit cross-legged. "It was funny, in a way. His parents were very kind, and I'm not sure what his mum thought I was going to be like. And sweet Salazar he was nervous. You would have thought a professional Quidditch player would be all...well, you know how they are."

"Mostly twats, but continue. What happened?"

"Well, when I got there there were introductions, and I stood out like a pixie in a punchbowl, they were all in jeans and things like that. Eventually Eddie said they'd give me a tour so we all went out and got in the land roving thing."

"Land Rover. Oh hell, this is wonderful." Tracey laughed. "Perfect pureblood princess Daphne in a Land Rover. Was the top on?"

"No, it didn't have a top. It was very loud and bouncy. I sat next to Oliver in the back as we went all over the farm. It's very large, surprisingly. Quite a lot of land. And yes, they have sheep, but other things. Their best crop is some sort of potion ingredient they use at St. Mungo's. Thankfully I know the beauty charms or my hair would have been all over the place. He didn't say much, but you were right. He is rather fit."

"Told you."

"So how was the Weasley..."

"Good try, nuh uh. You first, Miss Three in the Morning. Then what?"

"Oh, well, we went back to the house and had tea. Oliver was showing me the main house. They have several on the land, his brother and sister-in-law live in one out on the far part and Oliver has a little crofter's cottage when he's back in Scotland. He was telling me about his flat near the Puddlemere training ground when his brother Ben handed him a cup of tea. He didn't even look at it, he just took a drink. Tracey, it was cup that was shaped like a boob. Nipple on the front and everything. I didn't want to say anything but he saw me looking at it and then when he realised...I've never seen anyone look so embarrassed in my life."

"So, good start, then." Tracey nodded thoughtfully. "I think it's the start of a wonderful romance, you bouncing around in a Land Rover and him drinking tea from a boob mug. Great story to tell the kids someday." She paused. "So you were flustered and he was embarrassed for how long, then?"

"Oh. After that his Mum yelled at his brother for a while and his dad asked me about my family. Apparently he knows my father from Hogwarts, they weren't in the same year, but I don't think I've ever heard Daddy mention him. It was when Annie, his mum, was trying to figure out about how to tell her parents...Oliver's grandparents are Muggles, you know, about how we met when I looked at him and saw that he looked like he wanted nothing better than to get away from there. I mean, his parents are very nice, if nothing like mine, and I could tell that his brother wanted to tease him some more, so I asked if he wanted to go for a walk. It was quite pretty out there, very green. Nothing like my parents' place in London. I asked him what it was like being a professional Quidditch player and...well, I always thought it would be quite easy but it's apparently very different. Not very glamourous, lots of hotels and practices and physically demanding. Much different than clerking for the Wizangamot, that's for sure."

"You're giving me nothing here." Tracey paused. "So you just walked around and petted sheep or whatever?"

"We talked. He's somewhat shy, one on one, and he's thoughtful. Asked me a lot of questions, and more than that he seemed very interested in the answers. Not like Gerald."

"Still can't believe you slept with him."

"Well you slept with Nigel."

"I thought we were never going to discuss that." Tracey glared at Daphne. "You promised."

"Well, you brought up Gerald." Daphne rolled her eyes. "And he apologised for me being matched with him. Said that he wasn't much of a catch, outside of Quidditch. He's glad I'm not a Quidditch fan, apparently there are women who throw themselves at him just because he's good on a broom."

"I know the type. See them hanging about Games and Sports. You'd be surprised. So..."

"We had a nice dinner with his family. And then we went out for coffee in Inverness. He asked if we could date, even though we're supposed to be engaged. You know, to get to know each other. And we're going to one of the dances up in Scotland. Maybe you and Osbert can join us."

Tracey snorted. "We're going to the London one. Mostly so we can drink and make fun of people."

"So you did get on with him. What's he like?"

After thinking for a moment Tracey started to say something and then stopped. "He's...outdoorsy. He's a dragon keeper and lives in Romania."

"Romania? I thought..."

"Kept his British citizenship. He's almost six foot, sorta stocky, a few burn scars and has a wicked dragon tattoo. I saw part of it at the table when he opened his collar. It goes all over his chest and shoulder. Margaret's gonna love that."

"So you've told your parents?"

"No! Are you mental? I'm not talking with my parents about this, not yet. You can imagine what they'd say about the law. He's not thrilled about it either. Told me the wizarding world's in the dark ages, blah blah blah. He's funny, not 'ha-ha I just had a wee in my knickers' funny but sneaky funny. When you don't expect it. Quiet at times but doesn't miss much. He thought the mustache was a good touch."

"Mustache? Tracey, what did you do?"

"Oh, it was brilliant. I'm there with all the Weasleys, and I mean all the Weasleys. Potter and Granger are there because they're engaged to Weasleys and Fred brought some girl who works with him. He's been seeing her on the sly, got her pregnant and now he can't marry Lee Jordan. Mix up at the Ministry, it was funny, but Molly, that's his mum, she was giving Fred a hard time telling him it wasn't fair to Verity, the girl from the shop, and everybody was sitting there and that's when I did the mustache. It was a good one, too, I had it curl up at the ends."

Daphne put a hand to her forehead. She remembered when Tracey had visited and pulled the same trick, charming a mustache onto her face and sitting there like it was completely normal during one Easter dinner. Her mum was aghast. "Seriously?"

"Yup. And nobody said anything until Loony Lovegood, she's been matched to Prefect Percy, good old Loony told me I had butter on my mustache. Everybody stopped and stared but Charlie just reached over and wiped the butter off with his napkin and told me I'd need to be a bit more graceful if I was going to be his wife."

"Merlin." Daphne yawned. "Maybe you're matched to the wrong Weasley."

"No, I don't think so. I think I've got the best looking one. And he can dance, anyway."

"Stop. Stop. Stop." Daphne leaned forward. "You're giving me stick for being out late when all Oliver and I did was go out for coffee and talk. You went _dancing_?"

"Hey, it isn't that big of a house. Merlin knows how all of them lived there. We made it through dinner and you can only listen to Mummy Weasley plan weddings for so long, so he asked if I wanted to go out for a drink."

"Tracey...wait." Daphne's eyes went wide. "How in the world did you know about his tattoo? You said it went around his shoulder and chest...no. You didn't?"

"What?" Tracey shrugged. "I said he's fit. And funny. A bit older, which is fine. We ended up going to a Muggle club and there was a band so we had a few drinks, did some dancing and...well..."

And then the thing that had been gnawing at Daphne's mind clicked into place. She'd lived with Tracey since they were eleven and she knew for an absolute fact that Tracey was a horrible housekeeper. She was, to be honest, a right slob. But their flat, which was always messy, was undeniably tidy. Almost spotlessly clean. "You brought him here, didn't you?"

Tracey scrunched up her nose. "How'd you know?"

Daphne gestured with her hands around the flat. "Apparently he's much better at the household spells than you."

"Bollocks." Tracey sat back. "Ok, I wasn't planning it ,mind you. I planned on not liking him. I had it all planned. I'm tell him that I'm a horrible choice for a wife and we'd have a wedding, he'd visit a sperm bank and I'd get knocked up that way, we'd call it good and he'd live his life and I'd live mine. But he's...um..."

"You shagged him. In our flat. You're giving me shit and you're the one who shagged on the first date."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "So? I like him. We really got on. I didn't annoy the hell out of him like other men. You know how I am."

"I do. You always say you can tell if you'll like someone after an hour. So I take it after that..."

"He's agreed to meet my parents' in a few days. Please tell me you can talk Wood into joining me. I'll go to your parents' if you come to mine. Don't make me do it alone. If you do you know what'll happen." Tracey yawned. "Now can we call it a night? Some of us have to work in the morning."

"Fine. Fine, I'll go with you. I'll owl Oliver later. But you owe me."

"Good. Hopefully my heroin addiction will be over by then. Night, Daph." Tracey smirked at her friend and left for her bedroom.

Daphne sat there, unsure of everything. Tracey had not only got on with her intended but apparently got off as well. Oliver was...intriguing. As she picked up the ice cream bowl where Tracey left it and placed it in the kitchen sink she thought no matter what had happened, at least she finally had a clean flat.

-ooo-

Initially several of the Ministry-sponsored dances were scheduled to happen all over Britain, but after further consideration all of the smaller, more intimate dances were cancelled for one large event in London. The press had a field day with that, citing more Ministry mismanagement and incompetence.

The topic of the law and it's legality were still hotly debated, and the Department of Mysteries statement that those who ignored the law chanced losing their magic didn't help matters. Other publications went into overdrive, such as Witch Weekly, and the amount of wedding magazines and guides quadrupled. It wasn't all butterbeer and chocolates, though, as a group of witches and wizards unhappy with their pairings protested and almost started a riot in Diagon Alley.

Eventually, though, the dates of the calendar turned to the night of the big Ministry ball. It was going to be the largest mass event in Wizarding Britain since the Quidditch World Cup, with attendance from not only the newly matched but familes and friends of the matched. Madame Malkin could barely keep up with the business, as everyone was determined to see and be seen in their best. More than that, though, when each matched couple entered the ball they'd be given an envelope with their scheduled wedding date, guaranteeing attendance. As for those on the Second Chance list, they'd be given their match. Needless to say there were a lot of nervous witches and wizards getting ready for the big night.

-ooo-

Charlie stood in George and Fred's flat above their shop, looked into the mirror and tied his tie for the third time. It'd been so long since he'd worn one, the last time he'd worn one was for Bill's wedding as he'd promised himself after Hogwarts he wouldn't wear one unless he couldn't get out of it. Needless to say he was a bit out of practise. "Damn it." He untied it again and started over.

"Going Muggle? Bet her parents will love that." George stood there in his dress robes, smirking. "So a little birdie told me someone stayed out quite late after dinner at the Burrow. Care to explain?"

"Stuff it, George." Charlie focused on his tie. "I like the suit."

"Looks like a Muggle spy." Fred joined his twin in the doorway, also sporting dress robes. "Maybe he's not actually a dragon keeper but a spy for the Ministry stationed in Romania to keep..."

"You can stuff it, too." Charlie finished tying the tie, this time coming up with the proper knot and length. "And we went out for a drink after. You know, what people do on dates to get to know each other, not shagging in the storeroom by the Canary Creams."

"Oh, you wound me." Fred mock-clutched at his heart. "And for the record it was by the Fizzing Whizzbees. And the Patented Daydream Charms. Umm...and by the Ten Tongue Toffees."

"Poor Verity." Charlie pushed them out of the way. "At least she knows what she's getting into." He made his way into the sitting room and turned on the wireless; the coverage of the ball was on so he turned that off and picked up a magazine and sat down.

"Well, it seems our big brother is a bit out of sorts." Fred sat down on the sofa. "George, he's out of sorts, isn't he?"

"I believe so, dear brother." George looked at his watch. "But I'm afraid I have to leave. Picking up Susan and I don't want to be late. See you there."

After George left Fred grinned. "He's scared to death of Susan's auntie."

"Smart." Charlie nodded. "You don't want to be on Madam Bones' bad side. Just like mine. So are you picking up Verity..."

"She's coming over in a few minutes, we're going from here. What about you?"

"Meeting her at her flat and then we're going with Daphne and Oliver." He paused. "And nice try, Fred. I know better than to go out the door without checking for charms. I'm not a firstie, you know. Honestly, flashing letters saying 'I have a small penis' on the back of the jacket is beneath you two. No creativity."

"We had to try." Fred shrugged as the chime from downstairs indicated that Verity had arrived. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet the mother of my child. I'm thinking Zeus is a good name for a boy, how about you?"

"I think you're an idiot, as usual. Go, I'll let myself out." After Fred left and locked the door Charlie went over to the Floo. He paused, as he didn't like big events, and this was going to be a massive event. He smiled though, as he picked up the Floo powder. If he had to go to this thing at least he'd be with Tracey. He never thought that things would go this way. She was irreverent, snarky, and if he was honest with himself very attractive. He stood in the fireplace and threw down the Floo powder, gone in a puff of green flame and smoke.

"Tracey, he's here." Daphne stood next to the doorway, slipping on her heels as the puff of smoke and flames revealed their guest. She walked over and extended her hand. "Hello, Daphne Greengrass."

"Charlie Weasley, nice to meet you." Charlie took in the blonde woman in the green sheath dress and wondered what Wood would think of her looking like that. "Sorry about the mess." He quickly took out his wand and siphoned up all the excess Floo powder.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "It's good to know one of you can do the household spells. Apparently you've rubbed off on her, as our flat was spotless after the dinner at your parents' house. Must have learned a trick or two."

Charlie coughed nervously. "Um, yeah. I guess."

"Hi." Tracey came into the room and kissed Charlie on the cheek. "She knows."

"Oh." Charlie blushed a bit. "You look wonderful."

"This old thing?" Tracey smiled. "Thank you. You don't clean up too bad, either. Didn't expect a Muggle suit."

He knew he should respond but he was drawn to the black dress she had on...it showed her curves quite well, and that reminded him of seeing her curves and then he remembered he was standing there while Daphne was there and felt himself get warm. "I'm blushing, aren't I?"

"You're a ginger, you can't help it." Tracey took his arm and pulled him away from the fireplace. "Wood's due any moment."

Almost as if on cue the moment they were away from the fireplace there was another flash of fire and smoke depositing Oliver Wood in the flat. He wiped the Floo powder from his face and gave a nervous smile. "Hello, all."

Tracey bit her lip as she looked over at Daphne. Her friend had an odd look on her face. She turned back to Oliver. "Nice kilt."

"Well, it did say formal, didn't it." Oliver took his wand from his sporran and dismissed the excess Floo powder. "You look quite lovely, Daphne." He paused and then his face fell. "I dinnae tell you about the kilt. I'm sorry."

Daphne shook her head. "No, you look quite nice. You are Scottish. Your family tartan?"

"Aye." He nodded and saw Tracey's smirk. "Problem?"

"Me? Oh no. No problem." Tracey shook her head. "Have you met her parents? Please tell me you haven't met her parents yet."

"No, not yet. Tonight's the first time. Couldn't make the schedules work. Quidditch practise."

"Brilliant." Tracey took Charlie's arm. "This is gonna be good."

Charlie glanced at his watch. "Right then, now that we're all here, it's time. Floo, portkey, how are we..."

"Maybe we should take the tube." Tracey's smirk was threatening to become permanent on her face. "I'd love to tell Lucina..."

"Portkey." Daphne hit Tracey on the arm as she went over to Oliver, extending a small figure of cupid. "The Ministry is really stretching it with these portkeys, though."


	3. Numbers

**A Match Made at the Ministry**

 **Chapter 3: Numbers**

The queue to get into the ballroom was very long. It was only through a massive amount of magic that the ballroom and the grounds could be kept hidden from the Muggles, and Ministry officials and Aurors were stationed around to keep order. The Aurors were also there to keep protesters away, but that was something not mentioned. Noticed, obviously, but one didn't mention those things. Best not to think of it.

Charlie stood in line with Tracey, watching all the different people lined up. Some looked happy but most looked nervous and some even seemed almost distraught. It was while looking at the witches and wizards in line, and a couple of wizards, that he felt Tracey tap him on the arm.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever grown a beard?"

"Once or twice. Why?"

"I think you'd look good with a beard. Can I try?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm crap at household spells but good at other stuff." Tracey gave him a very serious look. "Not a big bushy Hagrid one, but...hmmm...hold still."

She took out her wand and with a wave Charlie felt his face grow warm and then it stopped. He put a hand to his face and felt a full beard. "How's it look?"

"Wonderful. Some of my best work."

"Are you doing a matching one?" He gave her an appraising look. "The mustache was good, but..." 

"Nah. I have these, though." She reached into her small purse and took out a very large pair of spectacles. "Nicked them from my Gran. Her old spare ones." After putting them on she looked at him. "What do you think?"

Charlie stifled a laugh, as she looked like some of the old Romanian Muggle women he had seen in the market. "Dead sexy."

From a ways off a female voice said "Charlie?"

They turned and Charlie swallowed hard. In her official Auror robes Tonks was walking towards him. "Hiya Tonks."

"Wotcher, Chuck." She came over and stood by them. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Tracey Davis." Tracey stuck out her hand.

"Tonks, nice to meet ya." Tonks shook her head. "Not sure about the beard, Chuck."

"I like it." Tracey nodded. "Without my glasses I'm as blind as a bat, so I feel around in bed to find the beard. Keeps me sure I'm with 'Chuck' instead of some other bloke."

"Right." Tonks wasn't sure how to respond. "Ok, you two have a good time, I'm off to find Remus."

After she left Charlie looked over to Tracey. "That was brilliant."

Tracey gave him a look. "I know who she was. Percy told me about her at the Burrow."

It was at that moment that Daphne and Oliver joined them, accompanied by a small blonde woman and an equally short wizard. "Sorry we had to...what the hell, Tracey?" Daphne shook her head. "Have you started drinking?"

"Nah, just having a bit of fun. Hello there, Mr. and Mrs. Creevey."

As the women began to talk to the newlyweds Oliver looked over to Charlie. "Nice beard. Is this queue moving at all?"

"Not much, and thanks, mate." Charlie looked over to the others. "Your sister and brother-in-law to be?"

"Yeah. Seem nice." Oliver squinted a bit. "Is she wearing glasses? She looks like my Nan."

"Does your Nan look like that in a dress?"

Oliver shook his head. "Now I need a drink, I dinnae want to think of that. That's no a good image."

The small talk continued as the line slowly made its way towards the entrance of the ballroom. Eventually, though, they were all at the entrance. A wizard in official Ministry robes stood next to one of the Department of Mysteries lot, and as the couples stood there the witch/wizard from the Department of Mysteries took an envelope out of a box and handed it to the Ministry wizard. After ticking the names off of a list the wizard handed the couple their envelope and shuffled them off into the ballroom.

Oliver stood there, nervous, and saw Daphne tense up when he accepted the envelope. By previous agreement they walked into the ballroom, threaded their way through the masses until they found a less crowded spot and then both of them were silent for a moment.

"If you don't want to do it I'll do it." Daphne reached towards the envelope.

"No, I'll do it." Oliver opened the envelope, pulled out the parchment and let out a whistle. "Bloody fucking hell. Ten. We're number ten." He held out the parchment towards her.

"So that means..." Daphne took the parchment. "Next week. We're getting married _next week_?"

"Apparently so." He looked at her. "Listen, I know we don't know each other that well, and we'd talked about dating, but this changes things. The Wizangamot's still no in session, so why don't you come with me? I'll get you your own hotel room, we're playing Harpies next week. Dinnae what the gaffer'll say about this, and my parents...shite, your parents. I haven't even met them yet..."

Daphne felt her stomach drop to her feet. It had always been in the future, marrying Oliver, and she'd resigned herself to that fact. She had hoped they'd get the chance to know each other more, but now it was real. There was a date. It was really happening. "I need a drink."

Oliver nodded. "Agreed. Shall we?" He held out his arm to her.

She took his arm, somewhat in a state of shock. "Yes."

"Hey, Daph!" Tracey came towards her, Charlie right behind her. "What number? When?"

Daphne blinked and eventually managed speech. "Ten. Next week."

"Holy shit." Charlie ran a hand over his new beard. "That's quick. Ninety-seven for us, two months out. Ollie, breathe, mate."

Oliver nodded and took a series of deep breaths. "I still haven't met her parents."

"We need alcohol." Tracey looked around and then repeated it emphatically. "We need alcohol. Large quantities. And maybe a smoke, Zabini's got to be here and he always has a packet of fags on him. Come on." She grabbed Daphne's arm, pulling her away from Oliver, and headed towards the ballroom.

Oliver stood there for a moment and then looked over to Charlie. "I like her, so far I really do, and never thought...but next week?"

"What can you do? Wanna lose your magic, never fly again? There's worse things in the world than..."

"No, no, she's fit and smart and funny and seems unlike any Slytherin I've ever met but..." He paused and then reached into his sporran and brought out a very tiny flask. "My brother gave me this, said it was for emergencies. I think this qualifies." He unscrewed the cap and took a swig; smoke poured out of his ears a moment afterwards as he handed Charlie the flask.

"Don't mind if I do, thanks, mate." Charlie took a drink and after the burning stopped and the smoke ceased he coughed for a bit. "Bloody hell, I've had firewhisky before but what in Godric's name was that?"

"My brother makes his own. What am I gonna do?"

"Looks like you're getting married in a week. Come on, let's go find the girls."

-ooo-

Just as at Hogwarts several circles of friends gathered together, sometimes gravitating towards those of their particular house but sometimes not. The table of Weasleys was obvious to all, mostly because of the red hair but also because of the size. Several tables had been pulled together and also like Hogwarts most of the women seemed to gather together, leaving the men sitting around drinking.

Questions about certain Hogwarts classmates and friends were answered; Neville Longbottom had been matched with Hannah Abbot which both of them found hilarous as they'd been dating for a year but hadn't made anything official. Everyone laughed as Neville told them that his Gran had remarked that it took the Ministry to make her grandson 'get off his arse and ask the poor girl.' Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan compared notes, as they'd been matched with older witches they'd never met, and in Seamus' case the witch was almost old enough to be his mum. But everyone stopped when Lee Jordan stopped by the table with a very elegant looking witch in her mid-forties and introduced his new match, Leigh Jordan.

It was also when everyone discovered that out of everyone at their table Daphne and Oliver had the earliest wedding date. Hermione had overheard one official and found out that the first wedding would be Pansy Parkinson, who had been matched with a man whose family ran a successful chain of fried chicken restaurants in the Muggle world. Charlie remembered the man, as he was a sixth year Hufflepuff prefect when Charlie was a first year Gryffindor.

The music changed from the staid, boring wizarding 'classic' music to Muggle music, causing everyone to start. It was obvious the Ministry was going out of its way to make the Muggleborn feel included, but Hermione groaned.

"At least they could play something more current. This is my grandparents' music!"

"Hey." Charlie leaned across the table. "Don't talk bad about Bing Crosby."

Tracey's head snapped around. "You know Bing Crosby?"

"One of the old keepers out at the Reserve has all his records. Charmed a Muggle player to play them with magic. How do you know Bing Crosby?"

"My Gran loves him, listened to him when I was little. Have you seen the 'Road To' movies? Oh fuck it. Come on, let's dance."

As they left the table everyone looked stunned. Finally Oliver looked over to Daphne. "I have no idea who Bang Cosby is and my mum's a Muggle."

"Like I would? I had no idea about that. She never said anything to me." She saw Oliver's eyes widen as he stared at something above her shoulder. She turned and...there, standing in their best robes, were her parents.

"Hello, Daphne." The rather thin blonde witch with a severe hairstyle looked down her nose. "Were you ever going to speak to us?"

Daphne stood up and looked at her parents. Her mum was in one of those moods, that was obvious from her expression, but there was something in her father's eyes she couldn't quite read. "Mummy, Daddy...I was going to tell you in person, I didn't want to send an owl..."

Harold Greengrass looked at the men at the table and waved a finger around. "So which one of you is my future son-in-law?"

Oliver swallowed hard and stood up. "That would be me, sir." He stuck out his hand. "Oliver Wood."

Daphne saw her mum's eyes widen when she saw the kilt. "Mummy, Daddy, this is Oliver. We're to be married next week."

"Next week?" Lucina Greengrass paled. "Next week? Sweet Hecate, Daphne, how am I to plan a wedding in a week? And Mister Wood, who are your family? Do you have a job? Please tell me you have a job."

"Behave, Luce." Harold put a hand on his wife's arm. "Mister Wood has a job. If his manager were smart it'd be a permanent spot in the starting lineup." He turned to his wife. "He's a professional Quidditch player, dear."

Oliver felt himself ease slightly. "Thank you, sir. I'd like to start but I trust the Gaffer."

"Quidditch?" Lucina closed her eyes and seemed to be fighting the desire to say something. Eventually she blinked and smiled. "Well, it can't be helped. At least you didn't run off to Gretna Green like some children. I'll expect you on Monday for tea so we can plan things, Daphne. Now if you'll excuse me I need a glass of wine."

After she left Daphne stared at her father, who was grinning like the kneazle that ate the pixie. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. Stori told me the other day. Next week, eh? Well, just put up with her for a bit and then it'll be over." Turning to Oliver he gave him an appraising look. "I didn't get to give this speech to Dennis but you'll treat her right or else. We are a Slytherin family after all. Right. Have a good night." He focused back to Daphne. "Now I'd better go see to your mother before she does something horrible or says something she'll regret more than usual."

Daphne sank down into her chair in a heap. "Merlin's pants."

Oliver sat down and scooted closer to her. "That didnae go so bad."

"Oh, it's not over. We were in public." She reached forward and took the first glass of anything off the table and drank it, causing Ron Weasley to say 'hey!' "Oliver, I feel like I should apologise now for what she'll say. Maybe we should go to Gretna Green."

"And have my mum join yours in the yelling? No thank you."

Daphne still had a shocked look on her face. "I had no idea whatsoever that Daddy follows Quidditch.

Tracey and Charlie made their way through the dancers and arrived back at the table. Tracey saw Daphne's face and tapped her friend on the shoulder. "What'd we miss? What happened?"

"I met her parents." Oliver unscrewed the small flask and offered it to Daphne. "Here, it's a wee bit strong."

"Don't care." Daphne took the flask and drained it before Oliver could warn her. As it burned and the smoke rolled out of her ears she wondered if Oliver's suggestion of going on the road with him wasn't such a bad idea.

-ooo-

As the night wore down many couples left, the shock of the wedding dates forcing reality upon them. It was a shared shock, though, which led to many discussions. Several themes had developed regarding how to deal with the law. Some couples planned on marrying only in name, producing the one required progeny and then either living separate lives or divorcing. Most seemed set on making the best of things as they could while a few more vociferous pairs planned on making their solicitors quite a bit of Galleons with consulting fees and suits against the Ministry. For the existing couples there as spectators there was an overwhelming feeling of relief of having been omitted from that particular legislation.

That was the topic of conversation at one table, where Charlie sat with his sister and Harry. Charlie listened as Harry related some of the things he'd had to deal with as an Auror as a result of the marriage law.

"He thought the potion would make him sterile, to keep him out of the pool, but I think the potion maker gave him instructions that tip us off on purpose. Those ingredients are on the prohibited list for a reason, and every sale is reported. According to the Department it wouldn't make him sterile, just rather uncontrollably itchy in very sensitive areas."

Charlie laughed softly and reached for his drink. "Never underestimate the stupidity of people. See it all the time out at the Reserve, mostly with the tourists."

"Speaking of the Reserve..." Harry leaned forward. "You've been here for quite a while. Counting this as a holiday?"

"I wish." He shook his head. "I'm on 'unpaid leave' until this all gets sorted. I owled my boss as soon as I found out about this and he wasn't happy, that's for sure. I was on holiday when I went to the match in Bulgaria, though. I'll probably be working every Christmas and Easter to make it up to the poor sods covering my shifts."

"So you're not leaving Romania, then?" Harry adjusted his glasses. "You know Molly's hoping that this makes you stay in Britain. The law and Tracey and everything. She told Ginny that the other day but..."

"Oh, I'm not surprised. I hear about it all the time. Mum's not going to change." He paused. "And to be honest we haven't really talked about it. It's always been somewhere off in the future, right now we're just having a good time."

Harry gave him an odd glance. "Ok, I'm not even married yet and I don't think that's a good idea. Ginny and I talk about everything."

"Yeah, well..." He trailed off. After a sigh he turned to his future brother-in-law. "I guess we'll have to talk about it now that we've got the date and all. We were supposed to go with Oliver and Daphne to meet her parents, and they were going to do the same with Tracey's folks, but it just didn't work out. Still haven't met them yet."

"Keep the beard. Looks good."

"Thanks, think I will. Dunno how long the spell will last, though. Not looking forward to the itchy week or so growing it the slow way. And since all anyone can talk about is weddings what about you two? Mum got it all sorted? I think she's got George's sorted, poor kid. Poor Susan, actually. I don't know her, how's she doing?"

"Not well." Ginny sat down on Harry's lap, causing Charlie to bite his lip. "Shocked would be an understatement. Sue's rather shy, smart, good job at the Ministry...you know, just George's type. It's a good thing they got 184 for their wedding number, maybe by then George will stop being a prat. It's like he's skipped the 'getting to know you' phase and moved right onto baby names." She gave him a smirk. "So have you and Tracey picked out yours?"

"Um, no. Hasn't come up." Charlie leaned forward. "And what about you, Gin-Gin?"

Ginny fixed him with a look. " _We're_ not on a schedule."

"I like James if it's a boy, and maybe..." Harry stopped as Ginny had turned to look at him. "Uh..."

Charlie took that as his cue. "Right, good luck, Harry. You'll need it."

After leaving the table as fast as possible, as his sister's temper was on par with his Mum's, Charlie ambled through the thinning crowd. Occasionally he'd see one of his former housemates and stop for a quick chat, but in reality he wanted to find Tracey and get out of there. The conversation with Harry and his sister was playing on his mind, especially some of Harry's comments. He'd never talked to Tracey about real plans after the wedding, as they'd both been caught up in finding someone to have fun. And it had been fun. As usual Charlie had let it just kind of happen, going with the flow, but he knew that eventually hard questions would have to be asked. He also knew that he'd have to meet her parents. Living in Romania and going down to the villages on occasion gave him some exposure to the Muggle world, but that was Romania. This was Britain. He would have to go to...and that's when he realized he didn't know anything about Tracey's family. At all.

"Hello Charlie. Are you having fun?"

He looked up to see Luna Lovegood in a bright yellow dress holding a wineglass. "Hi Luna. I guess I am. You?"

"Oh it's been quite the night. My feet hurt though, the cushioning spells wore off a bit and I can't quite get it right. Can we sit?"

"Sure." Charlie saw an empty table close by, covered in drinks debris. "That work?"

"Yes, thank you." She sat down and slid off her shoes. "Much better. I hope going barefoot doesn't attract miggieflips." With a very serious look she stared at him. "They affect balance, your inner ear. Very hard to get rid of."

He paused for a moment and then nodded. "I'll take your word for it. Listen, what does Percy say about things like mig..."

"Miggieflips. Well, he wasn't very receptive at first." Luna pulled her dress up almost to the point of something embarrassing and then pulled her legs up to the chair and let the hem fall down, making it look as if she didn't have any legs. "He tried to tell me that things like Nargles don't exist because you can't prove it, but I told him that many things exist you can't explain. I could tell he didn't believe me but then I asked him to prove to me where magic comes from. Daddy laughed at that, it's an old one he uses on skeptical readers."

"Good point." Charlie nodded. "So what's your number?"

"Forty-two. I told Percy it was perfect because it's not too early but it isn't too long. I think it'll be just right to start to get to know each other." She paused. "I'm not sure where we're going to live. His flat is very tiny and I've been at the Burrow often enough to know it's rather crowded. I don't think it would be a very good place to make babies with Molly around."

Charlie half-choked on his drink. "Yeah, you got that right. Always a lot of Weasleys about."

"And now I'm going to be one." Luna beamed. "I always wanted to be a part of your family." She paused and seemed introspective. "I'm not sure about your future wife, though. She wasn't very nice to me at school..." Hurriedly she added "...but not as bad as some of them, including my roommates. Tracey didn't do much but she did call me 'Loony' a lot."

"I'll speak to her about that. Sorry to hear." Charlie found himself wondering yet again if he really knew who he was getting involved with. "I'd better go find her. Where's Perce?"

"He's talking with someone about policies at the Ministry. I think he saw his boss. Or maybe it was his boss' assistant..."

"Try and get him to think of something more than work, ok? All right, I'm off to find Tracey. Have a good night."

Once again Charlie made his way through the crowd, more sparse than before, and found Tracey sitting at a small table with Daphne and Oliver. They didn't look happy. He sat down next to Tracey and took a deep breath. "What's wrong?"

"Her parents." Tracey leaned over towards him. "I don't think they're looking forward to tea with Lucina an' Harold. Don't blame them. Lucina hates me."

Daphne shook her head. "She doesn't hate you. She just doesn't...well..."

"I was in Slytherin, besides that she thinks I'm just a useless Muggleborn." Tracey rolled her eyes. "My kind shouldn't work at the Ministry, blah blah blah. Heard it all before. I'm used to it. She may not hate me but I'm pretty sure she just tolerates me for your sake."

"Listen..." Oliver stood up. "I think we should be going. Daphne and I have a lot to talk about and I doubt I'm going to sleep anytime soon, no after all this. Coffee?"

Daphne looked up at him and took his outstretched hand, rising from her seat. "Can we go someplace Muggle? I don't really want..."

"Sure, sure." Oliver nodded. "Let's go."

Daphne turned back to Tracey. "See you back at the flat."

Charlie and Tracey sat there for a while, silently. After what seemed an eternity she turned to him. "So now what? It's still..."

"We need to talk." Charlie held up his hand. "Not like that, it's not the 'we need to talk' bit where someone gets dumped. That's not happening, it's just...we've had fun, haven't we? But I don't know much about you, not really. I remember you told Mum you have three brothers but that's all I know. You know more about my family..."

"Because everybody knows about the Weasleys. Not exactly a low profile, not after the war. And I didn't say much on purpose. I don't like talking about them. To be honest I don't always like them very much."

Charlie paused and then, to Tracey's shock, laughed. Seeing the look on her face he gradually stopped. "And you think I always like my family? Nobody always likes their family. Bill's a right pain in the arse most of the time, bloody eldest brother know-it-all shite with a drop-dead gorgeous wife." He saw Tracey give him a look. "Oh come on, Fleur's part-Veela for Merlin's sake. You have to admit it."

"Fine. But she's..."

"Difficult at times, and that's being nice. Mum hated her at first. And Percy's not bad but when he was a kid he was the biggest tattletale you've ever seen. Didn't help that the twins were such idiots most of the time back then. Fuck, they still are. Drive me nuts, and when they do that thing where they finish each other's sentences I want to punch them. Did on occasion, worth the punishment. Ron can be a sulky little git and Ginny was the girl so she always got away with everything. Granted, I'm a lot older than Ron an' Gin so I got to skip out on a lot of it...and don't get me started on Mum. She's been trying to marry me off for ages, always on me about my hair...Merlin she liked to cut it short. And then when I moved to Romania you would have thought I was mortally wounding her, that I did it just to spite her. The guilt trips are spectacular, especially around the holidays. Dad...well, Dad's usually brilliant but every now and then he just lets things slide when he could stop it before it got out of hand." He took a deep breath. "But mostly when I was a kid I was mad at him because we didn't have the money to buy new clothes or books or a broom. I know, dumb, but I was a kid. Nobody likes their family all the time. It can't be that bad."

"Huh." Tracey tilted her head. "I never would have guessed. To everyone in Slytherin you Weasleys were always one big happy, annoying family. Throw Potter and Granger into the mix and you were an insufferable lot."

"Still are. And you'll be a part of that soon, so that's why we need to talk. I don't want to go meet your family and feel like everyone should have on nametags, like a bloody work meeting with new dragon keepers and shit."

"You really want to know? Really?" Tracey paused. She hadn't had the best luck dating wizards in the past, not many could see past the fact that she was a Muggleborn Slytherin. "Ok. Fine. But I'm not telling you everything dressed like this. Come on. We'll go back to the flat. Daphne and Oliver will probably be out for hours."

Charlie's eyes lit up for a moment. "Um, could we do something?"

She tilted her head at him in annoyance. "They're not going to be gone that long."

"What? No. Not that. Not that I'd...never mind. It's just...I've always wanted to do something and Mum would never let us. I've done it once in Romania but..."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "For God's sake spit it out."

"I've always wanted to take one of those black cabs." He seemed to almost bounce in his seat. "I mean, I've been in Dad's car, but it's not a strictly Muggle car."

Tracey looked at him as if he'd just grown another head. "That's it? Seriously? You want to take a cab? Merlin's socks, that's...sure. Fine." She paused. "Do you have any Muggle money?"

"Yeah, I had Bill exchange some Galleons the other day just in case. Will this work?" He reached into his jacket and pulled out a wallet, opened it and handed her a thick stack of twenty and fifty pound notes. "Is that enough?"

Tracey rolled her tongue around in her mouth. "I think that'll work. If we want to go to Liverpool. Come on."

-ooo-

The morning after the ball Daphne pulled herself out of bed, thought about the last night and decided that she couldn't possibly begin to face the day without a cup of tea. She went to the loo, brushed her teeth and wondered exactly her hair could look so horrible. Probably because of the fact she tossed and turned in her sleep, she realised, and headed into the kitchen. Surprisingly the kettle was hot; that was unusual, as she always got up before Tracey. She put the teabag in the mug and poured the water over it, scratching her arse absentmindedly as the tea steeped. Her fog was abruptly cleared when she heard someone clear their throat from the other room. Someone male.

She pulled her t-shirt over her knickers and half-hid behind the kitchen table. "Who's there?" She peeked over the table. "Charlie?"

"Sorry, it's me." Charlie sat in the other room in his suit trousers and a t-shirt. "We stayed up late talking and it didn't make sense to head back to the twins' flat. And there was no way I was going to the Burrow."

"Can you give me a minute, please?" Daphne's voice was somewhat frantic. "If..."

"Not a problem. I'll just duck into Tracey's room for a bit."

Daphne hurried to her bedroom, still stretching the hem of her shirt over her bum as far as it would go. Once in her room she threw on the first things she could find, thankfully a pair of jeans and her bra were close by. Jamming the shirt over her head she took a deep breath and then went back into the kitchen, thankful that Charlie was still in Tracey's room, and made her tea. She sat down at the table and went to start the toast but remembered she'd left her wand in her bedroom so she went back, retrieved it and then started the toast.

It was at that time when Charlie came back into the other room to retrieve his tea. "Sorry, thought you'd sleep later since, well, everything."

"I'm an early riser." Daphne took a sip of tea and paused as she remembered what her hair had looked like. "You must think I'm a mess."

"You just woke up." He shrugged. "Who cares. You haven't had your tea yet."

"Thank you." She closed her eyes for a moment. "So you and Tracey were up talking?"

" _Just_ talking." Charlie nodded from the other room. "Prophet's here, by the way, article on the upcoming weddings." He folded the paper and sat it down. "But yeah, just talking. I didn't want to go meet her family and have them ask questions and not know the first thing about Tracey."

"I suppose that would be expected. After all you haven't known each other that long." Daphne paused and then looked at him and nodded towards one of the empty kitchen chairs. He gathered his tea and joined her. "Listen, Charlie, I'm glad she's asleep. You should know that she hasn't had it easy."

"That's what she said."

"No, it's more than just being a Muggleborn in Slytherin. What'd she say about her family? About her brothers?"

"Not too much, just that they kind of ignored her after she started Hogwarts."

Daphne snorted. "Ignored? That's rich." She turned as the toast popped up, levitated it over to her plate and began adding the butter and jam. "Ignored would be a nice way to say they pretty much acted like they forgot they had a sister, abandoned is more like it. She tell you about Bruce?"

"He's the one in the band, right?"

"Yeah, that's him. He's the one she was closest to and initially he was happy for her. Thought it was cool. But then, well, he was jealous for the most part. Jealous and angry that she got magic and he didn't. The other two..." She shrugged. "Alec and Matt weren't too bad, but they're older."

"So you've met them, then?"

"Umm-hmm." Daphne chewed a bite of toast. "Stayed with her for a week my second year. You would have thought from my mum's complaints that I'd left for good. Staying with a Muggle family." She mimed fanning herself. "I thought it would be fun. It wasn't. It was horrible. All he family knows she's a witch, her grandparents as well, covered by the Secrecy Statues somehow, I'm not sure, but we could talk about Hogwarts. At first they were interested but then when they realised she wasn't just at school for the year, she was a witch forever, things changed. I think it was when I found things like the telly so fascinating they realised that it's a completely different world. I could come visit their world but they could never really visit ours. Well, they could, but...it's complicated. She doesn't really talk to them much anymore. Only her Gran."

Charlie nodded as Daphne took another bite of toast. "So when I go up there today..."

"You're going today? Bloody hell."

He laughed. "Yeah. Later on. I have to stop by the twins' place and change clothes."

"Oh Merlin, yes. If you showed up in a Muggle suit they'd...they're not like that. They'd call you posh, like they called me."

"You are posh."

Daphne fixed him with a pointed look. "Oh piss off, Weasley. I'm just like you."

"Nah." Charlie shook his head and got up from the table, pushing in the chair. "Nah, you're not. You'd never see me wear skimpy knickers like that."

Daphne kept her eyes directly on Charlie as she picked up her wand. With a flick the toast, covered with jam, hit him directly in the face.

It was at that moment that Tracey walked into the kitchen, took a look at Charlie and without a word pulled down a mug and made a cup of tea. "Daphne, Charlie stayed over last night."


	4. Beer and Coffee

**A Match Made at the Ministry**

 **Chapter 4: Beer and Coffee**

"I've never been to Sleaford." Charlie sat next to Tracey on the train. They'd left King's Cross about an hour before but the conversation on the way up had been minimal. He could tell that she was nervous, much different than the sarcastic and chatty woman he known so far. He'd used most of the conversation topics safe amongst Muggles and was struggling. "How much longer?"

She turned from the window and wrinkled her nose. "Fifteen minutes, we're almost there."

"Hey." He bumped her shoulder with his. "It'll be fine. Are you sure I'm dressed properly for this?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You look fine, Charlie. Khaki trousers and a polo shirt are fine. We're just meeting my family, not the bloody queen. I'd rather do that. But not the dogs. She can keep the dogs. Do you like dogs?"

"Dogs are alright. I like most animals. Why I'm a...one of the reasons I have my job, you know?"

"You probably loved the 'Care of' class, didn't you?"

He smiled. "One of my favourites. Not for you, I take it."

"Um, no." She shook her head. "I liked the...maths class."

"So why didn't you do something with...maths? Instead of..."

"Because they wouldn't hire someone like me." She turned back to the window. "I knew I should have got a bottle of something. Why'd you make me promise?"

"Because it'd make a bad impression." He sat back in his seat and began picking at one of the callouses on his hand. "Listen, we don't have to stay the day. You said we'd just be there for the afternoon, right?" He waited for her to respond but when she didn't say anything he found himself getting more nervous. "You did tell them I was coming, didn't you?"

"Not really. I just said I'd come up and Gran said she'd make Mum put on food and...no. I didn't."

"So I'm a surprise, then. Well, this oughta be fun."

"Sorry." She leaned her head back against the seat. Tracey knew she should have said something to her family, but how do you tell people who aren't that favourably inclined towards magic that the Ministry for her type of people was forcing her to marry a man she'd never met before being matched with him? Who in their right mind would say 'oh, that's lovely, dear' and not think the whole thing was mental? "We can leave whenever you want. After you meet Gran."

Charlie filed that away. Of her family there was only one person who she really cared about their opinion, and it was her Gran. He licked his lips nervously and ran a hand over his beard. She'd insisted he keep it, she said it looked 'bitching' on him and since he didn't have to go through that awkward stage of growing the beard he didn't mind. Her Gran couldn't be that bad, anyway. After all, he had dealt with Aunt Muriel for years.

-ooo-

They decided to walk from the train station. It was a bit further than Charlie expected but he didn't mind walking; he walked all over the Reserve as part of his duties. Mostly, though, he thought that Tracey wanted to walk to delay the inevitable. As they got closer he saw her shoulders slump slightly.

"We don't have to stay long. I can say I have to get back for work."

She gave him a look. "You work in Romania."

"Yeah, but they have dragons in Britain. I could say I have to go to Wales because they've got a Green on a clutch that's being difficult."

"That'd go over well." She turned away from him and pointed to the next corner. "Right there and just down the street. You'll see the van."

"The van?"

"Bruce has a nasty Transit van with his band's name on the side. It's pathetic."

True enough they turned the corner and Charlie saw immediately what she meant; the houses all looked fairly similar, with plain Muggle cars outside, but one house down the street had a bright green van outside with a big black bat painted on the side. There were words on it but he couldn't make them out. As he got closer he saw that they said 'Bat Vomit.'

"Told you. Pathetic." Tracey had stopped outside on the pavement and turned to him. "We never have to do this again, you know."

"We'll see. Maybe they'll surprise you."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Come on."

They went up to the door and before she could open it the door flung open. Standing in front of them was a man roughly Charlie's height with long, straight dark hair and a black t-shirt and jeans with ripped knees. He took a look at them and turned back inside. "Tracey brought a bloke with her!"

"Move, Bruce." Tracey pushed him out of the way, reached back and took Charlie's hand and drug him inside.

Charlie felt like he'd walked into McGonagall's class in just his pants as everyone in the house seemed to stop and stare at them. He took them all in quickly, most of them seemed shocked except for the old lady sitting in a chair knitting. She smiled at them.

Tracey let out a sigh. "Everyone, this is Charlie."

An older man without much hair made his way forward. "Tracey, you didn't tell us you'd be bringing anyone. Hello, I'm Kevin, Tracy's dad."

Charlie shook his hand. "Good to meet you, sir." He saw a man who looked a little bit older than Bill, but with short-cropped dark hair due to a receding hairline, nudge another man who looked a bit younger. Tracey's brothers, he guessed. A slightly plump woman with brown hair and an apron on that reminded him of his mum came out of what must be the kitchen and wiped her hands off and hurried over.

"Tracy, you should have told me you were bringing someone, I would have put more on. Hello, Charlie, is it?"

"Charlie Weasley. Pleased to meet you."

Tracey nudged him. "Charlie this is my mum, Margaret." She pointed to the two smirking men on the sofa. "And that's Alec and Matt. Alec's the bald one."

"Hey!" The man stood up. "I may be bald but I ain't no ginger."

Charlie took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what to expect but that wasn't it. He nodded at them as they didn't appear to make any motion to actually greet him.

The old woman smacked Alec on the back of his head. "Manners. Tracey, don't make me get up, dear."

Tracey moved past her Mum, dragging Charlie as she smirked at her brother. "Gran, this is..."

"I caught the name, I'm old but I'm not deaf yet." She winked at Charlie. "Very nice to meet you. How long have you and our Tracey been seeing each other?"

"Uh, Gran, maybe we should let him sit down before you start in." She loudly whispered "She'll ask you horribly embarrassing questions. You don't have to answer."

"Oh." Charlie nodded. "I see where you get it, then."

For the next hour or so it went moderately well. Tracey tried to fend off the questions but eventually it came out that Charlie was, like her, magical. At that Charlie noticed her brother's reactions; all three registered different degrees of dislike, Bruce the most. Remembering Daphne's comments he made sure to keep his temper. It wasn't fair, Tracey couldn't help being a witch any more than he could help the colour of his hair.

Dinner went well initially, as he found that Tracey inherited her abilities with words from more than her Gran. They were a very talky family, and if he hadn't grown up with all of the chaos and four different stories happening simultaneously at the Burrow he would have been horribly lost. The brothers, perhaps with some sort of inferiority complex about being Muggles, bragged a bit about themselves. Alec played rugby and worked in some sort of office dealing with insurance, Matt helped his father at their garage; they repaired Muggle vehicles. Bruce was in a band which he thought was going to get signed to a record deal 'any day now' and Margaret was a cook at the local hospital.

He initially told them that he worked with animals and they let that go without much comment. At Gran's questions he told them that had five brothers and a sister, that his mum kept house while his father worked in the government. Margaret said that it must be nice not to have to work out of the house, and things just sort of settled into an entirely awkward clinking of silverware on plates and 'pass the butter' kind of meal.

After the table was cleared away, and the men went out in the garden to smoke, Charlie summoned his Gryffindor courage and joined them. They looked at him oddly for a moment and then Kevin pulled a can of lager out of the cooler and tossed it to him. Charlie popped the top, took a swig and then everyone stood around for a moment, unsure of what to do or say.

Finally Alec took a long pull from his lager and shook his head. "Can't believe she went and took up with a poncy ginger wizard. Must be nice, waving that little stick around instead of working. What'd ya do all day, play with kitties? Nice job. For a poofter."

Bruce laughed and rolled up his sleeve, showing off a rather shoddy tattoo in the image of his band logo. He saw Charlie looking at it. "Yeah, it's something, ain't it? Bet you wish you could have something like that. You'd probably get a fluffy kitty. Probably the reason you're seeing Tracey, low standards for the both 'a you. Wizards, more like wankers."

Charlie had seen shit like this before, men acting like they needed to show who was the baddest man in the room. The last time he'd seen this big of a dick-waving contest had been in Romania. He and the other Keepers held their own and then more against the villagers at that local pub. More than that, though, he was tired of listening to the shit. If this was just a taste of what Tracey had endured he knew why she didn't come there very often. More than that, though, he was a Weasley, and he inherited more than his red hair from Molly.

"Right." He reached down and pulled off his shirt, revealing the massive tattoo that started in the middle of his back, snaked over his shoulder and ended with the dragon's head on his chest. "This is a Hungarian Horntail. They're the meanest fucking dragon on the planet and would snap your heads off before you could touch your little willies and piss yourself." As he was angry the dragon tattoo reacted, it's eyes flashing as inky flames burst across his chest and receded. "And for the record, mate, I don't spend my day with kittens I make sure these bastards don't get out of hand and fly over here and set Sleaford on fire for fun. We've got them all out there, Welsh Greens, Chinese Fireballs, but these bastards" he tapped his tattoo. "...these bastards have killed more people than any other breed. I've handled one by myself once, once. I'm one of the best fucking keepers on the Reserve and I lasted twenty minutes before the others got there, kept that dragon from... Twenty. Fucking. Minutes. You can take your hard man shit and stick it up your arse. I see things more threatening than you before breakfast. Hell, I see things shit more threatening things than you before breakfast."

He took a drink of his lager and shook his head. They were staring at him in shock. And a bit of fear. He knew he might be pushing things but his temper was flowing and he went up to Bruce, standing close. "And for the record if I ever hear of you or you lot doing anything to Tracey, anything, saying anything nasty or...yeah, I've got a wand, and I absolutely know how to use it, mate. I know spells that'll skin a dragon, spells that'll pull all their guts out...I could make your eyeballs explode in your head before you could even look at that shit tattoo, remember that. She's a witch. She's got magic. You don't. It's been years, deal with it. Fucking arseholes." He turned to Kevin. "Sorry about that. Thanks for the beer. I think we'll be going now."

As he walked back into the house he was still fuming. He closed the door and when he did he saw Tracey standing there with her mouth open, her mum with her hand over her heart and Gran nodding and smiling. He didn't know what to do or say so he stood there.

"That's a very nice tattoo, there." Gran pointed towards him. "How do you get the eyes to do that? Never seen anything like that."

He looked down and realised that he'd left his shirt out there. "Shit." He saw Tracey look over to her Gran, and it was then her mood shifted. Charlie saw it and saw the uncertain, nervous Tracey change to the biting, take-no-shite girl he'd met before.

"I'll just go get your shirt and have a word with the morons." Tracey walked past him, taking a moment to trace a finger across the dragon's head.

It was silent in the house as Charlie stood there, shirtless, with his betrothed's Muggle mother and grandmother. Eventually, though, he ran a hand across his beard. "I'm sorry, I don't know how it does that. Magical tattoo."

"Isn't magic a wonderful thing?" Gran pushed her glasses up on her face. "And for the record I've always thought gingers were ab it of something. Dated one before Hubert. He had the temper. Good in the sack, too."

"MUM!" Margaret covered her face with her hand. "I cannot believe you just said that!"

Tracey's voice could be heard from outside. She was obviously giving her brothers a piece of her mind. The door opened and Kevin came in, Charlie's shirt in his hands. "Here you go. Sorry about them. 'Bout time someone took them down a peg."

"Thanks." Charlie put on his shirt.

"Hope you don't think bad a' Tracey 'cause of her brothers." Kevin handed him another beer. They ran off a couple of her other boyfriends." He paused. "Well, they weren't boyfriends for long."

"Nah." Charlie took a long drink of beer. "I'm not going anywhere. We're getting married...shit."

"What?" Kevin and Margaret said it simultaneously. "Married? Margaret came over and stared at him intently. "Is she pregnant?"

"No!" Charlie took a step back. "She's not. It's...complicated. We...it's...damn it." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"I'm waiting, lad." Kevin's tone wasn't very patient.

"Why don't you come to dinner with us some night? Not them." He bobbed his head towards the garden where Tracey's voice was still loud. "Have you ever seen magical London?"

"We'd love to." Gran smiled broadly. "But that'll be a long train ride for these old bones."

Charlie shook his head. "Not with magic. I'll have Tracey contact you. I probably should get her."

"Oh, please do." Margaret nodded. "We've got quite a bit to discuss. London will be nice but I'd like some answers now, please."

Tracey stormed back into the house and stopped. She could tell something had happened. "What? They deserved it. Come on, Charlie, we're leaving."

Margaret stood in front of her daughter. "Forgot to tell me something, Tracey Gertrude? Like the fact you're getting married?"

"Oh fuck me." Tracey rolled her eyes. "Really? We're going to talk about that now? Fine. Gran, Mum, Dad...Charlie and I are getting married and _no_ , I'm not pregnant. There. Told you. Done. Now we're leaving."

"Hold on." Charlie put out his hand. "They deserve more than that. I invited them, without your brothers, to London for dinner. Magical London."

"Fine." Tracey looked at them. "I'll ring you later. I'm done with Sleaford for today. Bye."

As Tracey headed out the door Charlie hurriedly said his goodbyes and rushed out to catch up with her. She was a good half block away by the time he caught up with her.

"Hey! Stop!" He took hold of her hand. "Tracey..."

"I hate them. I really hate them. My brothers are..."

"The hell with your brothers. Come on, I think the others are still in shock you didn't tell them."

"You're one to talk, whipping off your shirt like that." Tracey started to walk away but stopped. "We were watching you from the window, did you know that? I was worried you'd do something you'd get in trouble for, you can't cast a spell on Muggles. Trust me, I know the laws. I've wanted to hex them for years. But then Gran said something smutty about you and I couldn't talk. That's when you walked in."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Ok, now what?"

"Well, you've got to figure out where to take them for dinner, that's what. But right now we're going back to the flat." She took a couple of steps and then stopped, her expression vastly different from the anger a few moments before. "Charlie? Thank you. Nobody's ever stood up to them like that. Nobody's ever stood up for me like that."

"You're welcome."

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here."

-ooo-

When they got back to the flat Oliver and Daphne were there, a large stack of magazines and parchment in front of them. Tracey took one look and laughed. "It looks like Lucina's got you two working, huh?"

"No. Not just her." Daphne held up a piece of parchment. "It's in Oliver's contract."

"Publicity." Oliver sank back into the chair. "Ministry and Puddlemere decided we're going to have a big do. Pictures in the Prophet, the whole nine yards."

"Shit." Charlie sat down on the sofa, Tracey joining him. "Sorry, Ollie."

"Oh no, _Ollie's_ got it easy." Daphne tilted her head and propped it up with her hand, elbow on the chair of the arm. "All he's got to do is wear that bloody kilt. I'm going to look like...like a bloody fairy princess in the things they're telling me to pick from."

"So?" Tracey shrugged. "Pick another dress."

"That would be easy and since when has anything about this whole...thing, when has anything been easy." Daphne pulled a face. "No, I have to pick from these dresses because the designers made an agreement with Puddlemere." She looked over at Oliver. "You didn't tell me I'd be marrying a whole damn Quidditch team when I married you."

"Like I know anything about this." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "I let my agent sort this stuff and just play Quidditch."

"Whatever." Daphne turned to Tracey. "Your day has to have been better than mine."

"Doubt it." Tracey sank back on the sofa and rested her head on Charlie's arm. "Let me give you the highlights. My brother gave Charlie shit because he's a ginger, we had an awkward dinner and then when the morons went out to the garden to smoke and have a beer Charlie joined them. It ended up with him pulling off his shirt, threatening them, and then I went out there and yelled at them. Merlin, it felt good. I've been wanting to do that for years. Oh, and Gran thinks Charlie looks good without his shirt and asked me if he looked better with his trousers off. I think that about covers it." She sat up. "Oh wait, no, Charlie invited my Gran and my folks to dinner in London, magic London, and let it slip we're getting married. I doubt tea with Lucina can beat that."

Oliver looked over to Daphne, who had a very shocked expression on her face. "No, we can't top that."

-ooo-

It was later that evening as Oliver sat with Daphne in a little coffeeshop, her with the now-usual coffee with one sugar and a splash of milk, Oliver with his Builder's brew and what Daphne called 'half milk' as she thought the cup was only partially filled with tea. The coffeeshop had been recently opened in one of the new magical sections springing up across Britain in secretive little areas, this one underneath a car park in Croydon. Not many people knew about it but Oliver had an in; it was owned by his old Quidditch teammate Katie Bell. Katie Bell-Johnson, these days, but a name change couldn't really change that lass.

Oliver could tell that something was bothering Daphne, something more than the upcoming publicity and sorting her dress. After Charlie and Tracey left to go somewhere she became very quiet, almost withdrawn, only answering questions in the shortest of answers. Not knowing what else to do he remembered Katie's coffeeshop, and one Floo call later he was pulling Daphne out of her chair. Katie was happy to see Oliver, polite but not quite friendly to Daphne, and set them up in one of the far tables, over by the bookshelves.

"It's more than the dress, isn't it? It's...it's everything, right?" He looked over to her. "I'm no a romantic man, this isn't what you should have. You shouldn't be rushed into this and..."

Daphne looked up and stared at him. "Daddy thinks it's a great idea I'm marrying you because your family has a lot of land and you play professional Quidditch."

"I'm not even first team." Oliver sat back, dumbfounded. "I thought your Mum hates me. I saw the look she gave me, about the kilt. I've seen that before, you know."

"I heard them talking. When we were meeting with the press witch from Puddlemere. I went to go to the loo and I heard them. Daddy thinks our wedding will be a great way to advertise his business and Mum wants to make it just like she wants to because Stori ran off with Dennis. I don't think either of them care about me at all."

"Hey, now." Oliver reached his hand across the table. "It can't be all that bad." He saw her look at him and sighed. "Sorry. I just can't think of it like that, like they do."

Daphne reached up and wiped away the beginnings of a tea. She would not cry. "That's why you're such a bloody Gryffindor."

"It's not all bad, being a Gryffindor." Oliver smirked. "I mean, we do charge in head first which can be...rather stupid, come to think of it. But someone's got to charge in, someone's got to do things the right way. We can't leave it to the Ravenclaws, that lot would still be making calculations and studying things."

Daphne chuckled. "What about the Hufflepuffs."

"Still eating and braiding each other's hair."

At that she laugh-snorted, covered her mouth and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily they hadn't. "So stereotypical. And what about us Slytherins?"

"Ah!" He sat back and raised a finger. "You lot are the worst of all, scheming on how to profit..." He sat back and picked up his cup. "But it doesna matter. All us Gryffindors are gone from running into things without a plan, the Ravenclaws are stuck in their books and the Hufflepuffs are probably still eating. Someone has to sort the mess, so...Slytherin." Oliver's smile faded a bit as he looked off to the side.

"I'm sorry, Katie'd have my hide, but..." A man in a shop apron stood there. "She said she played Quidditch with you and...could I trouble you for an autograph? Oh, and maybe a note?" He thrust a piece of parchment and a quill towards Oliver. "Please?"

"Not a problem, mate." Oliver took the quill. "Who do I make it out to?"

"Wendel. With one 'l', not two."

"Right."

As Oliver wrote Daphne saw Katie walking towards them with an irritated look upon her face. She got there and smacked one-l Wendel on the back of the head with her hand.

"Ollie, sorry about my husband." Katie took the parchment from Oliver, ripped it into little pieces and stared at her husband. "I told you, no bothering Oliver! Damn it. Come on." She pushed him away and mouthed 'Sorry' to Oliver before heading back towards the counter.

Daphne gave him a very odd look. "I guess I never thought that you'd be famous."

He scoffed. "I'm no famous. Maybe a wee bit, but not that much. And it won't last too long, I can't play forever. Might not ever make it to first team. But it is all I've ever wanted to do, ever since Da took me an' Ben to my first match, travel the world an' play Quidditch." He took a breath. "You know with your job an' my job we won't be together that much. I travel a lot, and if we make some of the cups this season it'd be a fair bit more. Give us a bit of time before...you know. You could visit once or twice, go to a match and we could play tourist. If you want."

"That's it." Daphne shook her head. "I don't know what I want. Thanks to the Ministry I don't even have time to figure that out. I hate this law." She paused for a second. "But I don't hate you, Oliver. You've been nothing but kind. Your family is wonderful..."

"My family?" He looked confused. "Really? But we're just a bunch a' farmers..."

"But I loved it up there. I even bought a pair of Wellies."

"You did, now? Those will come in useful." He sat back, slightly confused. The women he had dated since leaving Hogwarts really couldn't care less if is family lived underwater, they were focused on his job. But Daphne didn't care about Quidditch. She liked the farm. The pretty, blonde pureblood across from him liked...no, _loved_ the farm. "So...would you want to live up there? It doesna have a Floo but we could sort that easy enough."

"I'd...I'd like to try." She looked at him. Even though she couldn't imagine babies or anything like that in this very moment she did find herself liking him quite a bit. She'd thought about him quite often. It didn't help that the Ministry, her parents and the Puddlemere publicity team had thrown them together, but if she was going to get through everything at least it was with him. "But I'd like to restrict my Mum's access."

"Agreed." He nodded emphatically. "We can go up later, to see what you'd like to change. I want you to be comfortable there."

The words ran through her like a calming potion; the only person in the whole marriage fiasco that cared about her opinion was the person she was to marry. Perhaps it would end up ok after all.


	5. Scotland, Romania and Everywhere

**A Match Made at the Ministry**

 **Chapter 5: Scotland, Romania and Everywhere**

 _Puddlemere United's Reserve Keeper to Marry_

 _Janice Turnwood, Daily Prophet Society Columnist_

 _The first big public wedding from the controversial Osbern Marriage Law will take place later this evening. Oliver Wood, the reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United's mid-table Quidditch team, will wed Daphne Greengrass. Greengrass is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Harold and Lucina Greengrass, London. Miss Greengrass is currently employed as a clerk to the Wizangamot but Merlin knows when that august body will reconvene. Mr. Wood's parents are Mr. and Mrs. Edward and Anne Wood, rural Scotland._

 _Mr. Greengrass was inteviewed yesterday by the Prophet for his thoughts on the marriage law in his office at Poteet and Greegrass Investments._

" _I think while the execution of the law is perhaps a bit overzealous the intent is admirable. Our Daphne couldn't be happier to marry Mr. Wood; with such a bright future as his it's obvious that blood status is not an impediment to success."_

 _When asked about his youngest daughter's elopement Mr. Greengrass cited his very busy schedule and promised to make time for this reporter at the wedding. And it will be a very beautiful wedding, as we have learned that Dropsit and Flange have designed a dress for Miss Greengrass that everyone will be talking about..._

"Fucking hell." Daphne threw the paper down on the table and then immediately regretted it; after all, she was having breakfast with Tracey, Oliver's mum and his sister-in-law.

Fiona, with Oliver's neice Elizabeth on her lap, reached over and picked up the paper. It didn't take her long to figure out what had caused the reaction. "What a load of..."

"Wee bitty ears." Anne pointed to her granddaughter. "She'll start repeating things and won't that be fun when that comes out of her mouth."

"Sorry." Daphne looked down.

"Oh, not you, love." Anne looked across the table. "Today is one of the days you can say pretty well anything on your mind."

"What's one of the other days?" Tracey stopped mid-bite. "I don't…"

"When you get one of these." Fiona bounced the baby on her lap. "She's almost two now and Ben still goes on about what I said to him. Like I remember anything about that. Well, I remember..." She saw Daphne and stopped.

"Thank you for this. I think it was a good idea." Anne quickly moved the conversation forward. "It's too bad they're not letting you have attendants."

Tracey snorted. "Like I'd want to stand up there in one of those dresses they'd pick out." She saw everyone staring at her, including Daphne. "What? They'll make sure she looks good but bridesmaids? Have you seen any bridesmaids dresses that don't look..."

"Horrid?" Fiona offered.

Daphne smiled. "Ugly?"

"More like bloody awful if you ask me. Crap." Anne put her hand to her mouth. "Now I've gone and done it. And in a nice place like this."

Daphne took a sip of coffee and glanced around the room. Puddlemere had been quite receptive to Oliver's request; when the PR witch came by to ask what she could do and Oliver just pointed to Daphne and said to make things a bit nicer for her, well, it was a nice touch. Since she wasn't going to have any attendants, and nobody would be standing up with Oliver she requested to have a small breakfast laid out for her, Tracey and the women in Oliver's family. She thought about inviting her Mum but thought better of it. Stori thanked her but declined, saying that if she came and their Mum didn't they'd never hear the end of it. It was a rather nice room with cream-coloured walls and large windows thrown open to let in the sun.

It hadn't been and easy morning for Daphne. She'd woken up in the hotel, the venue for the wedding, in one of the complimentary suites. It was a beautiful old wizarding hotel in Bournemouth, not too far from the Puddlemere training grounds, something that was reinforced when she woke and found that the complimentary dressing gown from the hotel was emblazoned with the Puddlemere crest. As was seemingly everything else in the room from the complimentary tea service to the towels.

The combined effect of all the Puddlemere items helped reinforce that while she liked Oliver and appreciated what he'd done for her it wasn't like the wedding she'd dreamt of all those years ago. Of course, her conception of her wedding was much different than that of the reality of being a pureblooded witch at the time; only due to the war was she not entered into a marriage contract with another pureblood family. In the wake of Voldemort's defeat those types of blantant pureblooded things just weren't done anymore. Not often, and especially not by someone who wants the half-blood and Muggleborn Galleons flowing into their investment company.

Was it wrong to think of spending her time up in Scotland, in that cottage and away from everything? Was it fair to escape with Oliver while a part of her felt as if she was using him?

"Daph. Wake up." Tracey poked her in the nose with her finger.

"If that leaves a mark..."

Tracey shrugged. "You're a witch, remember, and much better at the household spells." She turned to Anne and Fiona. "You should hear her moan on and on about it. You'd think I was a step above a squib because I can't clean our flat with a few flicks of my wand."

Fiona smiled and thumbed at her mother-in-law. "We're Muggles and we can clean just fine without magic. Ever thought a' trying that?"

Tracey looked offended. "But I'm a witch..."

"Even witches can be lazy. What?" Fiona looked at the others who were smiling. "I call 'em like I see 'em."

"I'm not lazy. I'm motivationally challenged. I think there's a therapy group for that but I can't be arsed to find out the details." Tracey shrugged. "Besides, Charlie can clean. It was a punishment when he was a kid. Makes me he was a pretty bad kid."

Anne nodded. "Oliver did his share of punishment cleaning as well. Made sure he knows how to do his bit, don't you worry, Daphne." She paused. "Are you sure you want to come up north? You don't want to stay down in London? It's not as exciting."

"That's the understatement of the year. Maybe the decade." Fiona shifted Elizabeth onto her shoulder as the little one had fallen asleep. "Nothing much to do. How do you think she happened? And it's not like Ben and I can take one of those porpkeys."

Daphne ignored the mispronunciation and smiled. "I do want to come north."

"She even bought Wellies." Tracey took a bite of toast. "They're pink." She chewed a bit more thoroughly. "I decorated them with little pigs."

"You didn't?" Daphne turned to her. "They were plain green Wellies when I bought them. Turn them back."

Tracey shrugged. "Sure. Consider it a wedding present. But I think you'd look just _smashing_ standing out there in the field wearing pink Wellies." She clapped her hands suddenly. "Oliver can teach you how to drive and then you can get a pink Land Rover. Perfect."

"I don't even like pink that much. I hardly ever wear it. Why are you insisting on making everything pink?"

"Because it's funny?" Tracey narrowed her eyes. "You're getting grumpy. Maybe _you_ need a mustache."

"Hate to burst your bubble, dear." Anne shook her head. "But Oliver doesn't know how to drive."

"Fine." Tracey pretended to sulk. "Just go and ruin everything with facts."

A soft knock on the door was the first interruption. A woman from Witch Weekly wanted to speak with the bride, if possible. The PR witch from Puddlemere said to ask if she minded. Daphne gracefully declined, but then it became a parade of interruptions. As it was clear from there that the breakfast was over Anne and Fiona left, wishing Daphne luck and welcoming her to the family. Tracey hung out for a while, convincing her to have just a small glass or three of champagne, but when Lucina and the hair and makeup crew arrived Tracey made herself scarce.

It was a whirl, the hair, the makeup, the dress with all the charms that had to be layered upon it carefully and in a certain order to keep it clean, prevent wrinkles, keep everything in place, to prevent tripping...it went on and on until finally only her mum and the PR witch were left.

And then it was time.

As she stood at the doorway, ready to head down the back stairway to the ballroom, Daphne was glad she'd received one concession from the wedding planner; nobody was walking her down the aisle. She'd always planned for her father to do it, but after hearing his conversation the other day, and seeing the comment in the paper she was glad she would be on her own. She'd made sure that he knew that she'd requested to walk down the aisle by herself. After all, she was a Slytherin.

The music started, the PR witch tapped her on the arm and they started down the hallway. The large double-doors stood there and then opened, flooding the little hallway with light, revealing a long aisle down to a wizard in Ministry robes and a gobsmacked man in a kilt and formal jacket. She smiled, waited for the proper part in the music and took a step forward.

-ooo-

"This is quite awful. Dreadfully shameful."

Charlie looked across the table in slight shock. His brother Percy was criticising the Ministry? "Perce?"

Percy adjusted his glasses. "We've just watched Oliver and Daphne get married and it had all the warmth and personalisation of a form letter. I may not know Daphne but I roomed with Oliver at Hogwarts and I know he'd not like that. And now we're in this giant ballroom for the reception and we, their friends, are stuck in what may possibly be the worst set of tables in the place while politicians and Quidditch officials and, and..."

"Daphne's father's slimy Slytherin business cronies."

He hesitated for just a split-second. "Thank you, Tracey. Yes, while... Slytherin business cronies sit up there and make speeches and monopolise everything. It isn't right, I tell you."

Luna, at Percy's side, nodded. "Well said, sweetie."

Percy nodded, somewhat smugly. "Thank you."

Across the table Fred and George tried to contain themselves. Charlie could see that they were almost at the breaking point so he sent a very mild stinging hex their way under the table. That got their attention. He hadn't missed what Luna had called Percy, but since it seemed like Luna had been initially successful removing the stick from up his brother's arse he wasn't going to let the twins ruin things.

It had been, unfortunately, like Percy had claimed; very impersonal. It had also accelerated the talk he needed to have with Tracey. He turned to her and smiled very slightly as she sat there next to George, surreptitiously making his ear hair grow. Part of him wanted to see how long it could go, both the spell and the ear hair, but he needed to talk to her. As there was music playing he figured he knew how to do that. "Come on, Tracey. Let's dance."

"Sure." She stopped the spell and put her wand up the sleeve of her dress. "But not in the middle of all that."

He saw what she meant. The wizarding couples, bobbing along to the somewhat staid music in their finest robes and gowns, looked to be the 'important people' in the crowd. "Agreed." He led her to the far end of the dancing and took a hold of her hand. For a few moments they danced together quite silently, but then she tugged him towards one side rather hard. "What?"

"Turn, it's...fuck." In a much louder, somewhat fake-pleasant voice she looked over his shoulder. "Hello, Pansy."

Charlie moved slightly and saw them. The woman was Tracey's age but wore a dress like the ones he'd seen in some Muggle magazines before, cut very high and very low in strategic places. Her makeup was rather loud and she wore a gaudy amount of jewelry. The man dancing with her was vaguely familiar and then Charlie remembered; Hufflepuff prefect when a first year Gryffindor. Seeing him reminded him of why he was memorable; in the common room they couldn't decide if the look on his face meant that he was holding in vomit or a poo.

Pansy looked very smug. "Tracey, darling, how are you? Mortimer and I were just talking about you, we simply knew you'd be here with Daphne getting married. You always did like to follow her around."

Charlie squeezed Tracey's waist a little tighter hearing that but was surprised when he couldn't tell any difference in her dancing. Tracey ignored his extra attention and focused in. "I'm great, Pansy, just great. Hey Morty, how's the chicken biz? I think a stand would go great in Diagon Alley. Maybe Pansy could be in the adverts?"

Mortimer laughed. "No, not possible at Diagon Alley. Not enough foot traffic to warrant the investment." He nodded at Charlie. "Weasley, isn't it? Bill's little brother?"

"Yeah, that's me." Charlie kept moving in time with the music, turning them ever-so-slightly to make Mortimer and Pansy keep up. "So what'd you do after Hufflepuff?"

"Oh. Well." He glanced at Pansy. "I'm an accountant but really I do business acquisitions. Buy and sell companies."

"That's right, Mortimer's business is just booming." Pansy smiled daggers towards Tracey. "And how is Games and Sports these days?"

Tracey bobbed her head as if trying to contain the joy. "Wonderful. Simply wonderful. And how goes mattress testing?"

"What?" Pansy gave her a look.

Tracey shrugged. "That's what Malfoy always said you were good at."

As Pansy started to pull the barely dancing Mortimer away he looked over to Charlie. "And what about you, Weasley?"

He smiled. "Dragon Keeper."

"Oh." Mortimer almost ceased dancing. "Oh. How nice. We should catch up some other time. Owl my office. Come along, Pansy. I need a drink."

Charlie waited for a few beats before looking down to Tracey. "Malfoy didn't say that, did he?"

"Nah." She shook her head. "He said she'd shag anywhere."

"Mmm-hmm." The song stopped so he pointed towards the exit. "If they're heading for the bar I'd rather avoid them. Bit of air?"

"Sure." She took his arm. "The dress robes are ok but I liked the suit."

"Thanks." They walked down the hallway where the doors opened for them, leading out to a large terraced garden. "So that was Pansy, eh?"

"That was cute how you tried to make me calm down. I've been dealing with that bitch since I was eleven. I don't know how she made it into Slytherin, she's horrible at...must be the ambition. Oh well. Takes all kinds." They walked towards a fountain and she sat down on the edge. "So why are we out here?"

"I got an owl this morning." He rubbed his beard for a moment. "Yuri, one of the Keepers, the idiot somehow got dragon pox."

She looked at him like he had just told her that water is actually wet. "You work with dragons."

"But dragons don't actually cause dragon pox. That's not important, the thing is that they've rescinded my leave or whatever it is. I have to go back in two days."

"Huh." She sat there for a bit. "Ok."

"Ok? Ok what?"

"Ok, I'll go to Romania. Merlin, stop being so pushy."

"You're serious?"

"No, he was Potter's godfather or something. It was a bit deal, something about Azkaban...don't you get the papers in Romania? Actually that might be nice, I could do without the Prophet for a bit."

He looked at her. "What about your job?"

"What about it? It's a job. I got that one, I can get another one. It's not like I love it or anything. Not like you and the dragons."

"You really want to come? I'll be gone at all hours, sometimes my schedule's all over the place. There's not much to do on the Reserve. The closest village is kilometers away and even though it's Muggle I doubt you speak the language. And then there's the smell. Dragon dung, trust me, once it gets on something it takes ages to get the smell out."

"And you love it, right?"

"As much as my mum hates it, I do. I do love it."

"Well, I don't love filing forms for Quidditch teams. With Daphne moving in with Oliver it'd just be me in the flat and I can't afford it on my own. I'm not moving back to Sleaford. Romania it is."

-ooo-

 _Northern Scotland - One month after the wedding_

Daphne watched the rain begin to move over the hills and thought twice about her plan. She'd been doing well on the lessons, and Oliver's brother was a patient teacher, but she didn't think that she was ready to try it in the rain. Especially in the mud. And the road from their cottage to the main house wasn't especially good in the best of times, and that was with Ben or Fiona driving. But the road over to where she needed to go that day was something else entirely. It was to be a surprise for the rest of the family, her driving lessons. She wanted to help out on the Muggle parts of the farm, the parts that interacted with non-magicals, but to do that she needed to drive. Convincing Ben to give her lessons wasn't hard, and Fiona had quickly agreed. The only problem was she didn't have her own motor, and borrowing only worked for so long.

The first official act that Daphne Wood, pureblood Slytherin from London, the first thing she did as a married woman was to exchange Galleons from their shared vault for Muggle money to buy an old and somewhat decrepit Land Rover Defender. Ben had found a cheap one from an old farmer near Belhinnie. He'd laughed and told her that it would be good to learn on as she couldn't really hurt it any more than its current state, which was mostly dents, rust and crap repairs. The old farmer thought it funny that the pretty blonde lass wanted his old Defender. Daphne just thought it was brilliant. But now she needed to drive over to see them because of the owl.

The owl had arrived about twenty minutes before the rain started, and when she went to let it in she knew that it was a Wizangamot owl. Sure enough, as soon as she opened the parchment she knew that she'd been summoned back to work. It didn't take a seer to figure that out, but she was rather surprised since the 'extended holiday' for Wizangamot members had suddenly ceased. She needed to go tell the others that she would be heading into London, and she couldn't very well Apparate over there. The Floo didn't exist, so not down there, so that was out. That left the Defender.

She had just put on her Wellies and grabbed a macintosh off the hook when she had a niggling thought that she was forgetting something. Something about the letter. Placing the mac back on the hook she walked back to the table and picked up the parchment. She'd missed a piece of parchment, there was a second page. Flipping it over she scanned and then sat down abruptly at the table, the chair's legs screeching as they moved across the old wooden floor.

"No. They...no."

All worries about the rain were gone. Hurriedly throwing the mac over her shoulders and raising the hood she ran across the spongy grass and opened the creaking door of the Defender, jumping inside and only taking a moment to wipe the rain from her face before starting the engine. The engine died a few times as she struggled with the clutch and the gear lever but eventually it trundled forward, slowly, the wipers futilely battering against the rain.

It seemed as if she would never get there, stalling the engine again, almost getting stuck in the mud near the main house, but finally she crested the top of the hill and saw the barn. Giving it a bit more petrol she moved downwards at a frightening speed and then, in panic, stomped on the brake pedal, causing the Defender to slide about and the engine to stall and die. Starting it back up again she made her way much more slowly down the hill, finally, _finally_ coming to a stop by the barn door. She killed the engine, pulled the keys and dashed through the rain to the back door of the barn.

"Daphne?" Eddie looked over to her, shocked. After glancing around to make sure that nobody else was there he looked at her. "Lass, what's wrong?"

"Are there..." She looked around. "Is it just family here?"

"Lemme check." He made his way from around a workbench and went to another part of the barn, returning shortly. "Ben's walked them out. So?"

She brandished the piece of parchment as if it was on fire. "The law...they're going to overturn it. Our wedding...we may not be married. Legally. They're not sure."

"Fuckin' 'ell." Eddie went over to her and drew her into a hug. "Dinnae fash yourself, we'll sort it." He patted her back. "An' how'd you get down here?"

"I drove." She broke apart from him. "I wanted it to be a surprise, for you and Anne and Oliver...but now...now..." She waved her hands about. "I don't know what to do! And I've got to go back into work when they go into session!"

"An' Ollie's in Falmouth. Brilliant." Eddie looked at the poor girl, upset and unsure. He liked the lass quite a bit. In fact he'd told Anne that he was glad that the stupid Ministry law had sent her to Oliver. She wasn't someone he would have picked for his son but they got on well, and she honestly loved the farm. But in all of his years of farming he knew to plan for contingencies, something he'd made his son do as well. He knew how he hoped things would turn out, but it had to occur on it's own. "All right. Here." He reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. "Are you ok to...nah, ye aren't. I'll Apparate you to the house and you take the Floo down to Falmouth."

"But he has a match tomorrow. I'm supposed to..."

"You're his wife, Daphne. They'll let you see 'im. Go down there and talk to him. Just you two. You'll sort it. Forget the Ministry and all that shite, just talk to him. You figure out what you want to do and we'll support you, whatever the decision. Come on, then. Let's go." He took her arm and started to tell Ben he was leaving when he saw a glimpse of her Defender. "That's yours? You drove that down here?"

Daphne nodded without saying anything.

"Hmm. And they say Gryffindors are the brave ones. Come on, then."

With a pop of apparition they were gone.

-ooo-

 _Romanian Dragon Reserve – One month after the wedding_

Charlie finished up the paperwork at his desk in the main office, folded the parchment into a paper airplane and threw it towards the file cabinets. As soon as it got close the drawers of the file cabinet opened like a mouth and swallowed it, followed shortly by the sound of the parchment being appropriately filed. It was almost time for supper and his Weasley genetics were in full force. His stomach had been rumbling for the past half hour.

He said good night to the others in the office, slipped on his broad-brimmed hat. One of the Muggleborns called it his Indiana Jones hat, but he didn't care. It kept the sun off of him and that was really all he cared about. Tracey had teased him about it, something concerning a whip, but that had led to other things. It was while remembering those 'other things' that he made his way back to the cabin. A second after opening the door he realised that he hadn't looked to see if the sign was up.

Tracey stood there in the middle of their sitting room, wand upraised, while sitting chair in front of her was his boss. His usually bald boss who now sported something that looked like a pygmy puff on his head. Charlie cringed. "Sorry. Forgot to look for the sign."

"No. It's fine. I like an audience." Tracey levitated a mirror over to the man in the seat. " _Obviously_ I'm not done. Is that the right colour?" Seeing the man nod she moved the mirror away and turned to Charlie. "Be a lamb and put the tea on, please? I'll be done in ten."

He headed towards the kitchen, started the kettle and began thumbing through the mail which, as usual, Tracey gathered and tossed on the table. She'd received one letter from her Gran and had gone down to the village to ring her on the phone thingy to coordinate their next visit. He still hadn't made reservations in London but there was still time. Unsurprisingly there were letters for the two of them from the Ministry. Ever since they'd left Britain they received letters every other day reminding them of their wedding date, a letter reminding them of the date they needed to return to Britain, a letter offering them the option of three wonderful wedding venues, a letter a letter a letter. He was sure the owls hated the Ministry at this point. So this time when he opened the letter he wasn't expecting much.

He got quite the shock. Charlie stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. "Trace!"

"Five minutes! Merlin, patience." came the reply from the other room.

He read the letter again, then again, and was moving at Percy-reading-procedures speed on the third time through when the kettle sang. He wasn't sure if his boss would still be there but on the off chance he made a cup of tea. Walking in with a tray and seeing his boss still in the chair made him think it was a good idea.

"Thank you, Weasley." The man took the tea. "What do you think?"

Charlie looked at him. She'd done a rather good job, blending the hair so that it looked as if it might be thinking about thinning on top with the normal stuff around the back and sides. It didn't look like a blatant hair spell. "Good. Good. Really good, actually. Reminds me of a few years ago."

"Brilliant." He turned to Tracey. "When should I..."

"Two weeks. Maybe a little before that. No swimming for at least a day."

He laughed and popped up out of the chair. "I don't think that's a risk. I'll just bring you the cup tomorrow, Weasley. Thanks again."

After he left Tracey looked over to Charlie. She could tell something was up. "What is it this time? They want proof of consummation now or something? I swear the Ministry's full of perverts."

"No, not exactly." He handed her the envelope with her name on it. "You can read it if you want or..."

"Nah." She tossed it on the empty chair. "Tell me."

"Wizangamot's back. Been enough protests and legal challenges that they're probably going to overturn the law."

"So we don't have to get married, then?" She looked at him. "Really?"

"Really." He nodded. "So...do you want to get married?"

"Not particularly." She shrugged. "Sorry."

He took a very deep breath and stared at his shoes. "I understand."

"Hey." She stepped over to him. "I said I didn't want to get married. I didn't say I was going anywhere, did I?"

"What?" Charlie's head popped up. "I don't..."

"Oh, so you want to get married? Ok, but if that's the case you're wearing one of those dresses. I like this. Who knew dragonhide could be this comfortable?"

He laughed as he saw her smack her bum. A nice little bum entirely encased in Horntail leather trousers. "I've been wearing it for years. You didn't ask." He put his arm around her. "So...we're good?"

"We're good. We can tell Gran later. I have a feeling she'll approve."

"Fuck. My mum." He pulled her a bit tighter. "She's not going to like the idea of you living over here. Oh well. Molly's got to get used to things like this. I mean, Fred and Verity, so..."

"Nuh uh." She shook her head. "Jam. Everywhere."

"Gotcha."

-ooo-

Oliver heard the knock on his hotel door and dropped his head back on the bed in frustration. It had been a crap day of training, he'd been nailed by three Bludgers and had let in too many goals. The Keepers coach had given him some suggestions when the team healer was attending to him, but if there were more suggestions he really didn't want to hear about it. He laid there for a bit but the knocking became more insistent. "Fine, fine, keep yer hair on, I'm coming." He went to the door and threw it open only to find his wife, standing there looking like she'd jumped in a lake. "Daphne?"

"Did you get the letter? The Ministry letter?"

He shook his head. "No, the PR lot goes though all the mail, we get it after supper. Get in here, you're soaked." After she walked in he closed the door, went over and picked up his wand from the night stand. He helped her out of her mackintosh and then proceeded to use several drying spells on her. "I'd do your hair but it'd look pretty bad."

"Oliver." She turned to him. "The letter...the Wizangamot's back. They're going to repeal the law. I'm not sure if we're legally married or not."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, we're married. I was there. So were you and most of Britain."

"But..." She stopped. "You're taking this rather calmly."

He sighed. "Well, Da taught me a lot about farming and other things. He taught me to plan. Daphne, before we got married I had our family solicitor draw up papers."

"You what?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's not like that. I knew you'd never give a bloke like me the time 'a day. It's not like we would have ever met and...it wasn't fair to you. So I had papers drawn up that whenever you wanted out, for whatever reason, you could sign. I wouldn't contest a thing. Nobody knows, just me, Da and our solicitor. Now you."

Daphne sat down quickly on the end of the bed. Oliver joined her, unsure of what to do or say. Eventually, though, Daphne took his hand. "Oliver. I'd like to sign the papers. You've signed them, you signed them the day they were drawn up, didn't you?"

"I did." His voice was soft. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." She turned to him. "Oliver Wood, I'm divorcing you. The very first thing I'm going do as soon as it's legal and official and I'm single is that I'm asking you to marry me."

"What? Are you daft? Why in Merlin's name..."

"Because I want it to be because we want it, and I want a wedding for us. Not the ministry and your bloody Quidditch team. Definitely not my parents."

"It's not right. You should no have asked me. I should do the asking."

She sighed. "Gryffindors, always doing the right thing. The hell with tradition, ok? And here, they're very lovely, I do love them, but you should keep them until then."

She started to pull off her wedding and engagment band but he put his hands over hers. "Stop. No, not that. Those were my great-great grandmother's, from Da's side of the family. Da remembers her and said she was something else. So are you. I dinnae care if we're legally married now or later, I want you to have 'em."

"You know all this after a few months, huh?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I did. Mum and Da went out for two weeks an' he married her. I'm a bit slow, I wager." He put his hand out to kiss her, resting it on her hip and stopped. "What's that in your pocket?"

"Oh." She smiled. "Keys."

"To what? You put a lock on the cottage?"

"No." She smiled innocently. "Oliver, I bought a truck."

He ran his hand over his brow. "Oh bloody hell. If your Mum could see you now. What are you gonna tell your Mum?"

"That if she wants to see me our cottage has a Floo."

-ooo-

As the letters indicated the marriage law was rescinded. All weddings performed on and up to a certain date were classified as 'temporary' until confirmed by the participants. This led to a nasty series of letters to the Daily Prophet and other magazines, a six-part investigative series on the Wizarding Wireless and a vote of _No Confidence_ for Minister Osben. Her last interview as Minister was a scathing attack on the Wizangamot, blasting them for making her term untenable after she implemented a program they approved. The Wizangamot's attempt at blame-shifting didn't fool anyone, though. Fully three-quarters of the sitting members resigned, new members joined and Kingsley Shacklebolt was installed as a permanent Minister this time instead of just an interim Minister.

For some the ruling was a cause of celebration. Parties broke out all over Britain and, once the ruling made its way through the international wizarding press, all around the globe. It wasn't all a happy time, though, as some witches and wizards were quite irritated that their partner didn't want to go through with the ceremony as planned. Of the small number of weddings that had taken place and had resulted in a pregnancy there were special funds made available at Gringotts. Others viewed it as Daphne and Oliver did, as a very confusing and heavy-handed introduction service, although most who took that view hadn't gone through a ceremony.

Molly Weasley was unsure of how to process the news, as while it had led to some happiness in her family not all of her children were settled. Almost as soon as the news broke Susan Bones sent George and owl informing him that she was no longer interested and not to pursue anything romantic. Apparently George was a bit handsy. Fred had finally asked Verity to marry him but by the time they actually walked down the aisle there was a very good chance the poor girl would be as big as a hippogriff. Ginny and Harry had still not set a date and seemed to be in no hurry, and even though Molly couldn't prove it she was sure that there were not many nights that Ginny stayed in the flat she shared with her Holyhead teammates. Ron and Hermione, bless, were her proper pair, asking her opinion on things, taking her and Arthur to dinner with Hermione's parents and marrying next spring. Percy had, to her utter shock, decided that he would not only remain engaged to Luna but had started writing editorials for the Quibbler. Granted, they seemed quite out of place next to articles on Nargles, but he had gained a little bit of a reputation as a crusading author. She'd tried to pin them down on a date but Luna started going on about moon phases and she wrote that off as a lost cause. Bill and Fleur were always good, even if Fleur was a bit too controlling. That just left Charlie, as usual doing his level best to drive her to an early grave. Not only was he _not_ planning on marrying Tracey but she had moved in with him; even worse was when in reply to one of her letters he told her that he and Tracey had _no_ desire to have children.

Molly was not the only mum distraught with the havoc unleashed upon her child for good or bad, though. Lucina Greengrass was livid that her daughter would drag her through the press with such a story that she was divorcing her husband and then marrying him again. The press had a field day with such a thing. Stori thought it was hilarious that her mum was so frazzled by the whole thing, she told her sister so up at the cottage. Together the sisters decided to plan Daphne's next wedding and tell Lucina the day before.

So it was that a year later everyone gathered for the second wedding of Daphne Greengrass to Oliver Wood. It was a very simple ceremony, held out in the big barn at the farm. Tracey wore a dress that she picked out, Charlie wore a Muggle suit and both the bride and the groom wore tartan, though the bride's quantity was massively smaller than the groom. Tracey had to stifle laughs the entire ceremony as Lucina looked as if she wanted to apparate away from the barn immediately and scrub off her skin.

The party afterwards was memorable for it's joy and later it's result. Nine months later Athena Anne Wood was born, part of the small baby boom in Wizarding Britain. For a baby present Tracey brought over some baby clothes and a new jumper for Daphne. A jam-resistant jumper. The law may not have lasted but some of the intent survived. Athena was one of many witches and wizards whose name was entered into the big book at Hogwarts, with Jonathan Edward Henry Malcom Achilles Walter Scott Jordan's name taking up two spaces. Leigh and Lee Jordan wanted to make sure that Hogwarts, the Ministry or anybody else couldn't screw that up.

 _ **A/N: That was much, much more fun than I anticipated. It also was a LOT longer than I anticipated. Why the hell can't I write short stories? Oh well. Tracey Davis may now be one of my favorite/favourite characters. She may or may not have a small resemblence to an government office worker in Pawnee, Indiana. And as for Oliver and the boob mug? Do a Google image search for the actor who played Wood. You'll find it. Trust me, it's worth it.**_

 _ **Thanks again to everyone over at the TLX forum for the challenge, and especially Rose of the West. I'm glad you like crack, and you knew I'd have to have a party or two in there, not to mention a wedding. I'm addicted.**_

 _ **As always, thanks for reading and review if you wish.**_


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